Game of Thrones Season 8
by cbstevp
Summary: An attempt to see where the TV show will take us in its final season, picking up right after the events at the end of Season 7.
1. Chapter 1

**Game of Thrones Season 8 - Chapter 1**

 _Again we have a long wait until the next and final season of Game of Thrones. So once more I have decided to take a shot at predicting what will happen in Season 8. This new fan fiction is not connected in any way with my previous attempt at predicting Season 7. For those of you who read that story you know my predictions were not quite on the money. And I am sure some of the ones I make for season 8 will not be either. Nevertheless, I want to write this and so I shall. As I have done in the past each chapter will show the story from multiple viewpoints, much like the TV show does. Please enjoy and any comments are always welcome._

* * *

 **The Wall – Tormund**

"Fuck," Tormund Giantsbane said to no one in particular as he trudged his way west along the snow trench on top of the Wall. "We're fucked."

"Aye," said Beric Dondarrion from his side. "We truly are."

"How in bloody hell did that thing get a dragon?"

"It doesn't matter how. What matters is he has it and can ride it."

"The dragon died," Tormund replied. "We all saw it."

"And how many died at Hardhome and then rose from the dead?"

"Thousands."

"If he can do that, then I am sure he can reanimate a dead dragon."

Tormund grunted an agreement. He stared ahead through the light snowfall and then stopped and looked back. Nine men he counted, five of his, four crows. Eleven in all, counting him and Dondarrion. "Is this all that lived?

Dondarrion stopped as well. "It seems so."

"The boy from down south?"

"Was in the forge last I saw, making a new hammer to replace the one we lost. If the Wall collapsed on top of the castle, then…"

Tormund nodded. "Or they got him. Don't like it. He saved us, running all that way."

"We can't go back."

"No."

"Where to now?" asked one of Tormund's free folk companions as the rest came up and stopped.

"Castle Black," said Dondarrion. "But we have no food so we will reach the next fort and hope the stairs are still intact. Then we must go down and forage for something to eat or we will never make it."

Another man, a crow, stared at Donarrion in disbelief. "We go down there, those things will get us!"

"Aye, they might." Dondarrion replied. "But up here we will starve first. How far is it to Castle Black?"

"About one hundred miles," the man replied.

"Too far to walk on an empty belly," Tormund said.

A wildling spoke up. "Might be the dead are heading the same way."

"I think not," Dondarrion said. "They will head south to Winterfell. And we've got to warn them. There are ravens at Castle Black."

"Less talk and more walking," Tormund commanded and they began to head west again.

An hour later they came to a place that had not been cleared of snow for some time. On top of it they went, and the going got slower as they sank into the snow in places. But in others it was hard on top so it wasn't as bad as Tormund first feared. If only they had some tree branches to make snow shoes. One good thing was they had almost all lived a long time in the true North and so were used to the cold. Dondarrion was not of the North but he had a fire inside him that kept him going. And the man had died six times they said, and still lived.

"What was it like?" Tormund asked him as they walked on top of the snow.

Dondarrion did not need to ask him what he meant. "Cold," he replied. "Darkness…nothingness. Not a sound."

"Death sounds like a boring place."

"I wasn't there long enough to find out."

"Six times was it he brought you back?"

"Aye. The seventh will be the last time I die. I am ready."

"I'm fucking not."

A long time later Dondarrion said the sun should have risen but as they looked east they saw nothing but clouds and grey skies.

"It's too cloudy," said one crow.

"Or the Night King brings the darkness with him," said another.

"The Long Night," Dondarrion said.

"What this?" asked Tormund.

"A legend, told to scare children, of an eternity of darkness and snow and cold."

"Sounds like life north of the Wall," said a wildling.

"Aye," Tormund agreed. "We have the same stories. But we don't scare children. We make them learn, so they are ready when it comes."

"Did it help?" Donarrion asked.

Tormund gave a sad shake of his shaggy head. "Mance tried to do what was right. Take us south away from the demons. But the crows stood their ground."

"Aye, we did," said one of the crows behind them, sounding a bit too proud for Tormund's liking. If he wasn't so tired and hungry he might have turned on the man but said nothing to him.

"They say Jon Snow saved you all," Dondarrion said.

"He did," Tormund replied. "That man is more than a crow. He sees what needs to be done and he does it, no matter what it means."

"They killed him for it."

"They did," Tormund answered. "But he's not dead yet."

"The Lord of Light has a plan for Jon Snow."

"Then he'd better hurry up and tell him what it is. We surely need a way to stop what is coming."

Dondarrion had nothing to say to that.

The sun did not rise, or so it seemed, and the cold continued. Hunger gnawed at their bellies but they pressed on. They were men of the true North and the Watch and were used to such harshness and so not one man dropped out. They were also lent speed by their fears, of what might be coming behind them. But no sign of the dead did they see.

Finally they reached the next fort and found the stairs intact…well, mostly. In a few places were rotten boards and they almost lost a man who fell though some but they grabbed him and pulled him up. Down they went, to a cold and empty fort, which had not been held by the Watch for decades.

"What is the fort's name?" Dondarrion asked one of the men of the Watch.

"Greenguard," he said. "But it hasn't guarded anything in a long time."

They looked for food but found nothing. They gathered in the cold kitchens and Tormund looked at the crows and Dondarrion. "You lot stay here and make a fire and a place for us to rest. And find a big pot if you can. We'll go get our dinner."

It took some time but they got dinner, three rabbits and four squirrels, all taken down by spear and bow. Into an old cast iron pot the meat went, organs and all, with lots of water and some pine needles for taste. More pine needles they kept aside to make a hot drink for after. They also had some pine nuts and soft inner bark, which one of Tormund's men began to pound into a powder on a flat stone with his dagger hilt.

Dondarrion looked at the food with skepticism. "Is it tasty?"

Tormund grinned. "When a man is hungry anything is tasty. Pine is good for you. Keep you well. Your teeth will never fall out if you drink hot pine water every day. Course, ale or mead is better, but we'll have to make do with what the gods gave us."

It was tasty, the meat stew savory with pine flavoring. The pine powder they mixed with water to make a sort of flour paste they wrapped around sticks and heated over the fire. The pine needle tea kept them warm inside.

They rested for some time and then Tormund said it was it time to go. One of the crows complained but Tormund said he could wait here for the demons and that got the man on his feet.

They made snow shoes and that made the going faster where the snows were deep. Three more days they walked, hunting when they could, making fires and resting in any shelter they found, including the old forts of the Watch. Game was plentiful because no one lived here for a long time. Shadowcats they heard sometimes and once they saw a bear, but after they realized it was a real bear, they made some noise and it ran off. No one wanted to chance hunting it and getting hurt. It snowed a bit but not much. The man who had fallen on the stairs had a bit of a lame leg but kept up as best he could, fear giving him strength and speed.

On the third night Tormund was on guard duty, leaning against a tree on the lee side, keeping his eyes cast away from their fire to keep his night vision. They had debated about having fires in the open, fearing the enemy would spot them, but common sense told them they would first freeze and that the enemy feared fire so it was best to have some handy in case they came.

As Tormund thought on life and of a blond beauty back in Winterfell, he heard a noise. He held his breath and loosened his sword and took out his dragon glass dagger. There, coming along the path they took was a shambling figure, wrapped up in clothing. The figure shuffled along, slow, silent, like the wights. It was almost close enough to reach out and stab when it stopped.

"Help!" cried the figure and Tormund knew it was no wight. The man reached out a hand in desperation towards the fire and then collapsed on the snow, face down.

"Man!" Tormund shouted and others came running from the small camp. Dondarrion just reached his side as Tormund turned the man over. His face was wrapped in a scarf and they quickly uncovered him.

"The boy," said Tormund and they gently lifted Gendry and carried him to the fire.

After he got warm and had some food he told his story. "Was outside when it fell. Just ran, fast as I could. Saw the road leading this way, so I kept going."

"Did anyone else survive?" Dondarrion asked him.

Gendry shook his head. "None I saw."

Tormund knew what that meant. "They are all now soldiers in his army."

"I saw the dragon," Gendry said. "And them. Coming through the gap. All of them. Heading south."

"None this way?" a crow asked.

"I didn't wait to find out."

Finally on the fifth day since the Wall fell they ran into a patrol from Castle Black. "The Wall fell at Eastwatch," Dondarrion told them and they were hurried back to the castle.

Dolorous Edd was in command and as soon as he heard their tale he rushed off to send ravens to the world. Then he came back to the kitchens where all the men not on duty had gathered.

"You must leave this place," Dondarrion said to them. "Come to Winterfell with us."

"We can't," Edd replied. "Castle Black is ours to defend."

"You can't defend it against that dragon," Tormund told him. "But maybe they aren't even coming this way. Maybe all are heading for Winterfell, and then south after that."

"We could use your men at Winterfell," Dondarrion added. "And the castle's supplies."

"That's for the Watch," one crow said.

"And how many of you are here now?" Tormund asked.

"Less than fifty thanks to your lot," another crow said.

Edd grunted. "That's enough of that. We are all in this together now. We've got plenty of food in storage, but few horses or wagons to move it."

"We take what we can," Dondarrion said.

Edd looked at him, then Tormund, and then his men. Tormund looked around and one by one the men of the Watch nodded their assent.

As they rose to get to work Edd had one more question for Tormund. "Where's Jon now?"

"Gone south to convince the brother fucker's army to join us."

"Cersei Lannister? She hates anyone named Stark. Or Targaryen."

"Well, then it's a good thing his last name is Snow."

* * *

 **Winterfell – Sam**

"That's impossible," Arya Stark said, her voice calm and scary at the same time. "He's our brother."

Sam Tarly felt uncomfortable sitting at the table in the solar with the Starks. There was much tension in the air, and it was all his fault. Well, mostly.

Bran Stark insisted on telling his sisters what they knew, so that when Jon did arrive back in Winterfell there would be less dramatics. Better to get it over with now, Sam had agreed. And now wished he hadn't.

Sansa Stark seemed in shock, and said nothing at first. But Arya had given them looks of disbelief and said her words. Sam gave a little jump as she spoke. Her voice was cold, her eyes dead, and she just stared at her brother. "Prove it," she said.

Bran looked at Sam and nodded. He reached down and from a bag he took out the High Septon's diary and placed it on the table. "I found this book in the Citadel. It's a private diary, of a High Septon during the Mad King's rule. I…well, not me, but Gilly, she first found the passage. I didn't grasp what it meant at first, but now I do." They looked at him in expectation of more so he began to read. When he was done the passage Arya made a scoffing sound.

"Words in a book. That proves nothing."

"He was the High Septon," Sam said.

"So? Maybe he is a liar."

"Arya, it's true," Bran said. "I saw their wedding. I told you I saw Father with Aunt Lyanna when Jon was born and she died. I heard her say his true name."

"Just a vision," Arya said. "Jon won't believe it."

"He must, if we tell him," said Bran.

Sansa Stark finally spoke. "How long have you known?"

"Some of it for a while now," Bran replied.

"And you said nothing," Arya said in accusing tone. "Just like you said nothing about Little Finger until Sansa and I were ready to kill each other?"

"That…I am sorry," Bran said. "I had to make sure he could not escape, could not get support from Lord Royce. I did not want to tip him off."

"It doesn't matter," said Sansa. "It was all true, what Bran saw. We all saw Lord Baelish's face when he was accused. He could not hide his surprise when you told him what he said to Father that day."

"Lord Petyr Baelish?" Sam asked. "Is he here?"

"Not anymore," Arya answered.

Sam looked at them in confusion and Sansa told him. "Lord Baelish committed crimes against our family and has been executed."

"Oh. What did he do?"

"He started the war between the Starks and Lannisters," said Bran.

"He murdered our aunt," added Arya.

"He tried to turn me against Arya," added Sansa.

"And he betrayed our father," Bran said last.

"Oh. Well, I guess he deserved to die."

They were silent for a moment and then Bran spoke. "I know this will be hard for Jon. But he must know. He is heir to the Iron Throne."

"Not Daenerys Targaryen?" Sansa asked with some skepticism.

Sam spoke up. "She would be except Jon was born. The Targaryen's inherited through the male line, even if he is younger than a female relative. Jon is Rhaegar's legitimate son. Rhaegar's two older children died at the Sack of King's Landing. Rhaegar died on the Trident before his father died. He never ruled, but any living son of his would be heir after the Mad King…and before Rhaegar's brother and sister. So…Jon is the heir. And always has been."

"According to this book," Arya said.

"And Bran's visions," Sansa added.

Bran nodded. "Yes. Now do you believe it?"

"No one will believe it," Arya shot back. "I hardly do. If only you could show us your visions."

"No," Bran said at once. "I damaged Hodor, I told you. I will not take the chance with anyone else. Especially not my family."

"Ah," Sam began. "Jon…well…he might insist on seeing."

"So might our Queen," Sansa added.

"She's not our Queen," Arya said in a sharp tone.

"Yes, she is," Sansa retorted. "Jon bent the knee."

Sam had heard some grumblings about this in the great hall, the Northmen angered that their king had bowed down to a woman, no less a Targaryen.

"This will just mean more trouble," Arya said.

"He is still Jon," Bran told her. "He is still our leader. Nothing has changed."

"But if he is not our father's son then how can he be King in the North," Arya said to him. "You should be our leader. Or Sansa."

"No," Sansa and Bran said almost as one. "Jon did not know," Sansa continued. "He is not to blame. He is still our brother, in our hearts. That will not change."

Arya nodded. "Yes, I know. Just…why? Why did Father never tell anyone the truth?"

"Because of Robert Baratheon," Bran answered. "If he ever knew he would have wanted to kill Jon. And Father would have gone to war."

"He could have at least told Mother," Arya said, her tone bitter. "How she hated Jon, all for nothing."

"He couldn't tell anyone," Sansa said. "No one could know."

"Meera's father Howland Reed knew," Bran said. "He was there, at the Tower of Joy."

Arya looked at him in surprise. "Is he still alive?"

Bran looked at her in equal surprise, knowing what she was after. "Yes, I think so."

"Then we must send him a raven," Sansa said. "If he tells the story, people will believe it."

Sansa had just stood up when a knock came to the door and a maester walked in, the name of Wolkan if Sam remembered rightly. "My ladies, my lord, a raven…from Castle Black." His voice trembled and he looked pale. The scroll was already opened. Sansa rushed to his side and took it and began to read. She gasped and went white as a sheet.

"What is it?" Arya asked as she came to their side.

"The Wall…it has fallen, at Eastwatch," Sansa said in a bare whisper. "They are coming."

A short time later they had gathered all the commanders in the great hall and after Sansa told them the shocking news they began arguing over what must be done.

Lord Royce stood. "My lady, if it is true this Night King has a dragon, how can we stand against it?"

"We must stand until the Queen and her armies and her other two dragons arrive," Sansa said.

"There is no retreat," a man Sam knew to be Lord Glover said as he stood. "We fight and die here."

"We haven't the men," someone shouted.

"We will have more soon," Sansa said. "The Night's Watch and wildlings are retreating to Winterfell with as many supplies as they can carry."

"How many men, my lady?" someone asked.

"I know not," Sansa said and there was more grumbling and more than one voice said they should head south while they could. Then Bran spoke.

"We cannot run," he said and all stopped talking and listened. "The fight will be here, at Winterfell. Many will die, yes, but this is where it must be."

"Will we win, my lord?" young Lady Mormont asked. They had all heard of his visions, of the way he knew what had happened in the past. Sam had heard some say it was all nonsense, but others were ready to believe, even just to have something to grasp onto for hope.

All eyes were on Bran now. He shook his head. "I know not. I cannot see the future."

A great sigh filled the room. Then the rotund Lord Manderly of White Harbor stood. "The future we know not. But now is the time to act. We must prepare. Patrols must be sent up the Kingsroad to warn of the approaching danger. Word must be sent to King Jon about this dragon the Night King has so he is not caught unawares. We must gather all the people and food nearby into Winterfell."

"So it shall be done, at once," Sansa said. And then everyone stood, bowed to her and began to leave.

As they filed out Maester Wolkan and Sansa got together and spoke. Arya walked over to where Sam was.

"You said you are a maester," Arya said to him.

"In training. I haven't even forged a link yet. And never will now."

"You'd better learn, fast. There will be need of maesters, for the wounded. I've already spoken to Maester Wolkan. Your training begins today."

She walked away without another word. Sam stood there, uncertain what to do, when Maester Wolkan walked over to him.

"Sam Tarly?"

"Yes?"

"Come, we must have words."

He walked out of the great hall and Sam hurried after him. "Tell me what you were trained in so far," the maester asked as they reached the cold air outside.

"I took care of the ravens at Castle Black," Sam said. "At the Citadel I mostly did novice work. Cleaning, serving, transcribing, anything they asked of me."

"So you can read and write. Good. Anything else?"

"If you mean can I care for wounded…no. Not much practice at it."

"We have plenty of healers, but few here that can read and write. We must send many ravens. We have much work to do. You will write to King Jon. Lord Stark says you know him best so he will accept anything you write."

"What should I tell him?"

"Everything."

* * *

 **White Harbor – Tyrion**

The fleet came on the town in the late morning. Dozens of ships, straggling into the shelter of the long firth where the grey stone made city of White Harbor was situated, filling it to capacity. Tyrion Lannister stood on the rear deck of his Queen's ship, bundled up in furs against the cold, as it was guided into an open berth at a long wharf. Ser Davos Seaworth was nearby shouting orders to the crew, getting them to make the berth in an orderly fashion. Ser Jorah Mormont was on the starboard side, staring up at the city and its many people looking towards them. Also on board were Brienne and Pod, somewhere below. Pod had tried to be a servant to Tyrion again on the voyage but Tyrion had quickly put an end to that, telling him he could only serve one of them and it had best be Brienne. Next to the diminutive Tyrion stood the tall Hound, Sandor Clegane, and the rotund Lord Varys, equally bundled up against the frigid air.

"I fear I shall not enjoy the cold very much," Tyrion said as his breath clouded the air.

"This isn't cold," said the Hound. "The real cold is up north above the Wall. Freeze your balls off." He glanced at Varys. "In your case I guess it would freeze something else."

Varys grimaced. "I feel the cold as bad as those with balls. I just have less to lose than you do."

The Hound grunted. "We are all fucking mad for coming here. Wait for them on the Trident, I say. It's warmer and we'd have more access to supplies."

Tyrion had heard him say this more than once already. "A sound idea, but if they overrun the North, that adds tens of thousands to their ranks. And our allies in the North would be most displeased if we abandon them."

The Hound laughed. "She won't abandon him."

"Yes," said Varys. "Love does make you do stupid things sometimes."

They were all looking to the bow, where King Jon Snow and Queen Daenerys Targaryen stood, close together, almost touching but not, talking and sharing glances, laughing a bit. King and Queen, but of different realms, and now lovers. Trouble to come, if not already, Tyrion knew. They pretended nothing was going on but were failing badly at it. The whole ship knew they were lovers, though no one had talked to them about it. Eight days it took to sail here, and the rumor spread soon enough. Tyrion held his tongue and decided he would confront her once they reached shore, away from prying ears and eyes. But one person knew and wanted to talk about it.

Missendei was standing nearby and had heard them. "She is just lonely," she said. "She is not being stupid."

"Yes," said Tyrion. "We are all lonely and that sometimes makes us do stupid things. But she is our Queen and cannot afford to do so. Have you talked to her about it?"

"No," the interpreter replied. "I tried to but she was reluctant so I said nothing."

"That's your job, as fucking Hand," the Hound said. "Tell your Queen to keep her head in the game before we all lose ours."

"Your Queen?" said Varys. "She is Queen to all of us now. Your King bent the knee if you do recall."

"He's not my fucking King."

Tyrion looked up at the scarred face. "Come now, we all must place our loyalties somewhere. Where are yours?"

"All right, you little shit. She's our Queen. Just don't expect me to kiss your ass because you're her Hand."

"Would never dream of it."

Then came a screech from on high and the two dragons winged over the fleet, making circles above it. Tyrion looked on shore and saw many concerned faces looking skyward, pointing, and even a few running for the presumed safety of indoors.

"Thank the gods they are on our side," said Varys.

"Yes," said Tyrion. He looked at the Hound again and felt a twinge of jealousy. He had actually flown on a dragon, a joy Tyrion had yet to be offered. "How was it, riding Drogon?' he asked.

"Hot," said the Hound. "And dangerous. Mormont almost fell off. If I hadn't been surrounded by thousands of demons I never would have gotten on the damn beast."

"Dragons are fire," Missendei said.

"Aye," said the Hound and he got a sickly look on his face.

A half hour later they were on shore and the son of Lord Manderly, Ser Wylis, greeted them. He was a large man, though not nearly as large as his father was, at least according to what Varys told them before they arrived. Ser Wylis had a large drooping mustache which drooped even more when he bowed low to Daenerys and Jon.

"Welcome to White Harbor, my King and…"

"My Queen," Jon said. "Bow to just her, not me. She is everyone's Queen now, Ser Wylis."

"Yes, my…yes. My Queen, my lords, welcome to White Harbor."

"Thank you, Ser Wylis," Dany said. "I had expected to be greeted by your father. He is well, I trust?"

"Yes, Your Grace, but now he is in Winterfell." Then Ser Wylis' face grew troubled. "There has been dire news."

He nodded to a maester who stepped forward, bowed and handed two raven scrolls to Jon. "From Castle Black," Jon said at once as he began to read the first one. His eyes grew wide and then he looked at Dany and she seemed frightened by his look. He handed her the scroll and then he read the second one. "From… Sam Tarly, he's at Winterfell."

A short time later, after the dragons were found a spot to rest and some food, they gathered in the large solar of the main castle of White Harbor, Dany, Jon, Tyrion, Varys, Ser Davos, the Hound, Ser Jorah, Missendei, Grey Worm, Brienne of Tarth, and Podrick Payne, all those who had come north from King's Landing. Ser Wylis had food and drink served and then they began to talk.

"This is a serious setback," said Ser Davos, and if ever there was an understatement this was it.

"A setback?" Ser Jorah said in surprise. "A disaster would be a better choice of words, I think."

Only Dany was sitting and she seemed in shock. "Wasn't he dead when he fell through the ice?"

"Aye, he was," said Jon, hovering close to her, as if she would need a hug soon if she burst into tears. But she was made of sterner stuff than that, a fact the wolf had yet to surmise.

"They raised him from the lake somehow," Tyrion said. "And then the Night King did what he does."

Dany grabbed the scroll from the table and read again. "Beric Dondarrion…do you trust his words?"

"Aye," said Jon. "My father trusted him well enough and so should we."

"He is an honorable man," added Jorah.

"And I trust Tormund," Jon said. "And Sam Tarly. All of Winterfell is preparing for the coming battle, Sam says. We must get there as fast as we can."

"How long ago was it the Wall fell?" Brienne asked.

"Must be over a week by now," said Davos. "Ten days maybe."

"Ten days they have been marching south," Dany said. She stood. "We rest here for one day and then we march for Winterfell."

"Aye, Your Grace," Jon said. "But I think it'd be better if the dragons went to Winterfell at once."

"They don't know her," said Tyrion. "How will they react when they see two dragons flying over the castle?"

"I know," said Jon. "That's why I am going with her."

Tyrion exchanged an uneasy glance with Ser Davos. "You would deprive us of both our leaders?" the Onion Knight asked.

"No," said Dany. "You are all leaders. I trust you all to see the Unsullied safely to Winterfell. Gather what supplies Ser Wylis' people can provide. Write letters to Winterfell to tell them I am coming. We must go ahead in case the army of the dead is already near Winterfell."

"Doubtful, Your Grace," Jorah said. "It took them a long time just to reach the Wall."

"And mere moments to break it," Jon said. "Now they have a dragon. If the Night King decides to fly to Winterfell to destroy it, it won't take him much time to get there. Then we will be deprived of our main base in the North and a large part of our army."

No one could disagree with that. The unsaid thing was that Jon's family was there, what was left of it anyway. He wanted to go there to protect them most of all, Tyrion knew. Such instincts were noble, but not the way to fight a war.

The Queen dismissed them to see to matters. Before they left Davos looked at Jon.

"Did the letter from Castle Black mention what happened to Gendry?"

"No," said Jon, and Davos looked even grimmer than usual.

Tyrion lingered behind and when only the Queen and he and Missendei were left he looked at the interpreter. "I need words with the Queen. Alone."

She glanced at Dany and at a nod from the Queen she left as well.

Dany stared at him. "I know what you will ask. I cannot give it to you."

"I see," Tyrion said. "People are talking."

"Of course they are," she replied. "He is not my first lover, you know. I was married. I was with child once. I am not a little girl you must protect."

"I know that," he said. "It's just, well, it complicates matters."

"How so?"

"His people are very…clannish, I guess is the right word. They mistrust anyone from south of the Neck. Especially anyone named Targaryen."

"I am not my father. I did not kill Jon's uncle or grandfather."

"No, of course not. But still, if they know you are lovers, they will see that as the only reason he bent the knee to you. They will be suspicious of your influence on him. It will make him seem weak and foolish. They will think you are the reason they are in this war and are dying."

"They are in this war because if they don't fight they will all die. All of us will."

"True, but…"

"Enough. I will not keep away from him. Not now, not ever."

Tyrion now knew what was happening. "Do you love him?"

She blushed and he knew it was true. "I…I know not."

"Does he love you?"

"You seem to think so. But we have not talked on such matters. And you and I are done talking on it as well."

"Well…then I guess I'd better stay quiet. Just promise me one thing."

"Yes?"

"When you get to Winterfell, try to be discrete. The less the Northerners know about your relationship with the man they named King, the better."

She stared at him and then nodded. "As you wish."

Outside the main castle gate Tyrion found Ser Jorah waiting for him. "We have a problem," Jorah said.

"More than one. Which are you speaking of?"

"The Unsullied. They are not clad for winter. Tough they may be but the cold does not care how tough a man is. It will kill him anyway."

"Yes. Let us find Ser Wylis and see what stocks of clothing he can spare."

As they walked Jorah brought up the other matter. "Will she stop seeing him?"

"No. I tried to persuade her by pointing out how you Northmen would take ill of it, but she basically told me to mind my own business."

"She is strong willed. It's what makes her special."

"There is no need to tell me that."

"We all love her, in our own way, even you now."

"I…yes, I suppose so. She does inspire that in most."

"Let us hope inspiration is enough for what is to come. Let us hope she can do the right thing when the time comes."

Tyrion stopped and looked up at him. "What are you talking about?"

"Viserion," Jorah said. "When she sees him across the battlefield, will she have the will to kill him? To kill her own child?"

"He is already dead. So I do not see why she would not do the job."

"Let us hope so."

Tyrion was disturbed by the idea she may hesitate to kill Viserion. And that would be a problem, a colossal one, as they had no way to kill the Night King's dragon except with the two they had.

They walked some more and asked a soldier where Ser Wylis was and the man directed them towards a warehouse.

"How were your brother's men fitted for winter?" Jorah asked as they neared the warehouse.

"I know not."

"He is taking a chance coming north."

"We all are."

"More than demons want to kill Ser Jaime. Our Queen for one may still want his head. The Starks as well. I have been talking to Brienne. She says Lord Brandon Stark was injured in a fall from a tower years ago. At a time when your brother and sister were in Winterfell."

"I was there as well," Tyrion said, knowing where he was going with this. "Now you are going to tell me the North blames Jaime for pushing him from that tower because he saw…well, he saw things he shouldn't have seen."

"So is the rumor. Then there is the matter of the Red Wedding."

"Jaime did not plan that. He was a prisoner when all that happened if I do recall."

"Still a Lannister. As are you."

"The Queen will protect me from any Northern sense of justice."

"But not your brother."

Tyrion sighed. "Then let us hope he is smart enough to stay away from Winterfell."

* * *

 **King's Landing – Cersei**

"He left by the Gate of the Gods, Your Grace, and rode north," Qyburn told her.

"The guards did not try to stop him?" she asked.

"No, Your Grace. He is your brother and the army commander after all."

Of course they would not stop him, not unless she gave the order. But she couldn't. On a knife edge Jaime's life was and all she had to do was tell Ser Gregor to cut him down…but she couldn't…he was her brother, her lover, the father of her children, and child to come. And now he had abandoned her, to go on some foolish ride of redemption.

They were in her solar, with the massive Ser Gregor nearby as always. Qyburn was giving her his daily reports on all that went on in the city and realm.

"The Starks hate him," she said. "The Targaryen bitch will feed him to her dragon for killing her father. He is a fool if he thinks he can regain his honor."

Qyburn had nothing to say to this so she let it go. "What else? Where are our enemies now?"

"The Unsullied are gone on the ships to White Harbor and the Dothraki have ridden up the Kingsroad. The capital is free of any enemies, Your Grace."

"Just the ones outside," she said. "How many have we hung today?"

"Five and twenty," he said. "Mostly petty criminals. Plus a merchant who was hoarding flour, two rapists, and an old woman who was overheard saying she would be happy when the real rulers of Westeros returned. I infer she meant the Targaryens."

"Hang any who show the least bit of dissent."

"Of course, Your Grace."

"Where is that…thing?"

"The wight? In my rooms. I have been examining it."

"And?"

"By all appearances it was once human. A man, to be exact. The bone structure is human. It has skin and teeth, but in a state of decay. The blueness of its eyes faded when Jon Snow stabbed it with the dragon glass. Now they are a dull brown."

"How could it be alive?"

"I know not."

"You managed to keep Ser Gregor alive."

"He was poisoned, not dead, Your Grace. This Night King has powers beyond our understanding."

"One hundred thousand, she said she saw. It must be an exaggeration."

"Possibly. Or not. Ser Bronn got one of the people who came south to talk, a Podrick Payne, squire to Brienne of Tarth."

"I know who he is."

"He and Ser Bronn are old friends from when they served your brother together. He was well into his cups and he talked and talked. After a generous donation of gold Ser Bronn told me what he talked about."

"Do tell."

"Doings in the north mainly. Before Jon Snow took control of Winterfell, he traveled above the Wall to try to convince the wildlings to come south. There was a great battle at a place called Hardhome, where the wights defeated a wildling army…overran is a better term. Tens of thousands died. Jon Snow and some of his Night's Watchmen barely escaped on their ships with a few thousand wildlings. Apparently the Night King raised thousands of the freshly dead in front of Snow and his companions as they rowed to their ships."

"Did they attack their ships?"

"No. Snow told the truth of that it seems. They cannot swim."

"Good. If things get out of hand we will have a place to retreat to at least."

"Where, Your Grace?"

"Essos…or the Iron Islands."

"Yes, Your Grace."

"Has there been word from Euron Greyjoy?"

"Not yet, Your Grace. It is too soon."

"What else did Podrick Payne say about doings in the North?"

"The Stark sisters were not getting along."

"Sisters? You mean Arya Stark is alive?"

"Yes, and finally made her way home. Brandon Stark is also alive, it seems, though still a cripple."

"Brandon Stark. They should have let him die after he fell. Is he Lord of Winterfell now?"

"No, Your Grace…it seems he does not want the title. Jon Snow left Sansa Stark in command and Arya did not take this well when she returned. She has also become quite proficient in the use of a sword. Arya Stark, I mean."

"I care not how well she fights. If she kills her sister maybe I will offer her the position of Warden of the North when all this is over. Or her crippled brother. Tyrion may not have killed Joffrey but Sansa certainly played a role in helping that old crone put the poison in his cup."

"Perhaps," Qyburn said. "Nevertheless, it will be difficult to bring her to justice unless we win the war."

"When the Golden Company arrives and the Night King weakens the rest we will strike."

"Yes," Qyburn said and she saw he looked troubled.

"Say what you will."

He hesitated and then spoke. "If the Night King wins the battle for the North, his armies will come here. Perhaps we should…"

"No. Never mention it again. Our forces stay here. That is final."

"Of course, Your Grace. As a precaution I will prepare a ship for your safety…just in case."

She nodded and he took that as a dismissal and left her. As he neared the doors she had another thought.

"Tell Ser Bronn I need have words with him. As soon as you find him."

"Yes, Your Grace."

She dined then, alone now that Jaime was gone. The servants were scared to even look at her, and merely bowed and spoke softly when she asked anything of them, in a hurry to leave her presence. They did not love her and never would. Fear would do to keep them in line, as fear kept her father in power for so long…only to be killed by his wretched son.

She had him, here in front of her, and he even asked for her to kill him. She could taste the satisfaction, and the words almost passed her lips. But then she thought of her unborn child, and what the Targaryen bitch would do if she killed Tyrion. Burn the city to the ground, no doubt.

But she had only two dragons. Something was amiss. Qyburn did not mention it so perhaps Podrick Payne did not know what happened to the other dragon.

As she finished her meal Bronn arrived. Another of Tyrion's pets. She thought to have him killed many times, but he still had his uses. And he was brave without a doubt. Reports from the battlefield say he wounded one of the dragons during the battle for the wagon train.

He walked in with his usual swagger and dipped his head. "At your service, Your Grace."

"I have heard of your conversation with Podrick Payne."

"He is a talker when drunk. As am I when well paid."

"Yes. Did he mention what happened to her third dragon? Only two were at the Dragonpit."

"Nope. Could be the one I wounded. Maybe it's having a rest on Dragonstone."

"Maybe."

She stared at him and he looked back, not a care in the world. "I need you to do something for me."

"Name it and it is done…for a price."

"Of course. What is the price?"

"Your brother…not the Imp…promised me castles and lordships and gold. I've seen the gold, but none of the rest…yet."

Sellswords. She hated them but had their uses. And she had best get used to them if she planned to deal with the Golden Company. "I will draw up the papers stating you are a lord of the realm…once you do me the favor."

"Sounds fair. What is it?"

"Find Jaime for me and bring him back here."

"Where's he gone?"

It was no lie, he seemed genuinely surprised. "North, on the Kingsroad. He left this morning, alone. He shouldn't be too far."

"Not in this snow."

"What?"

"It's snowing out. Looks like a blizzard brewing up…Your Grace."

She stood and went to the balcony and opened the doors. A cold wind blew in and she felt a shiver. Snow was gathering on the balcony railings.

"Winter is here," she said.

"Aye," said Bronn.

"Go. Find him and whatever you want is yours. Gold, castles, whores, titles, you name it. Just make sure he is unharmed."

"What if he don't want to come back?"

She closed the doors and turned around to look at him. "Remind him that the Starks hate him and that he killed the Targaryen whore's father."

"I think he already knows all that."

"Well, then do what you must. You are a man of action. Do something to make sure he comes back…but unharmed."

Bronn gave a theatrical bow and left her.

Jaime wouldn't want to come back, but he had to. He would die up north, one way or another, and if she could stop it she would.

Cersei went back to the doors and looked through the glass at the snow outside. She had loved the few brief winter snows they had as children at Casterly Rock. Infrequent, and brief…but this winter would be neither. It would last for years…and maybe none of them would be alive when it was over.

But she would be. A house in Pentos would be nice…or maybe the Iron Islands…but that would mean accepting Euron Greyjoy as her husband. If she had to she would, but only as a last resort. She intended to live, and her child to succeed her, and anyone who got in the way would die.

* * *

 **The Kingsroad – Jaime**

"Scared the wits out of everyone," said the fat man sitting at a nearby table. "Thought they was going to rape and burn and steal and all that. Then they just rode through and not a hair on anyone's head did they disturb."

"Bloody savages," said his reedy companion as he sipped his ale. "The Queen should have killed them all. Now they will run riot all over."

"That's what I'm telling you, they didn't…run riot, that is. Just rode their horses north. Had a big bunch of wagons too, filled to the brim, but they didn't steal none of it. Not from around here least."

"Still foreign savages. The Queen will put them to rights someday."

"Yeah, but she ain't got dragons like the other one has."

"Best keep quiet about the other one," said his friend in a lower voice. They both looked around, eyes lingering on Jaime for a moment, but they did not know who he was.

Jaime sat at a corner table, back to the wall, staring out across the inn common room. It was half full, with the two talkers, some merchants, a few men who looked like they had been digging ditches all day, and the innkeeper and his serving girl.

They were talking about the Dothraki of course, riding up the Kingsroad towards Winterfell. Jaime was glad they had left already for he no desire to meet them all alone. The gods only knew what they would do to him once they found out who he was, truce or no truce. Especially if they knew Cersei had broken the truce.

He was not surprised. Well, he was, but in the end he should have expected it of her. She insulted his lack of wits, or maybe his lack of deviousness was more like it. Hunting, riding, fighting, yes, that was what he loved as a young man…and her. How she treated him sometimes made him wonder why he still loved her.

The serving girl arrived with his supper, a bowl of mutton stew, warm bread, and ale, and thankfully the pieces of meat and vegetables in the stew were small. A man who could not cut his meat would attract attention and that was not what he wanted. He was letting his beard grow again and the greying of his temples was a far cry from the golden locks he once wore so proudly. His clothing was not grand but not of a poor man either. But his speech would give him away as high born so he said as little as possible. Worst of all was that damn golden hand. Any man who saw that might take it upon himself to get rich quick by cutting Jaime's throat while he slept.

The girl smiled at him but he ignored her as he ate, keeping his fake hand under the table. She left after he gave her two silver stags, one for the meal and one for his room for the night. He had plenty of money but would have to husband it, and make sure no one knew how much he had.

Two days he had been on the road and he had not gotten far. The damn snow continued and so he was moving slower than he liked. Cersei had threatened him and might still find a way to make his life hell.

No sooner had he had this thought than the door opened and let in a blast of cold air, which caused a course of oaths to erupt and shouts to close the door. As Jaime looked up his heart sank.

Bronn grinned and walked right over to his table, sat down and without a word reached over and took his mug of ale and took a long drink. He put it down and turned to the serving girl.

"Two more cups of ale and a bowl of that stew. And more bread."

"Will you be wanting a bed?"

"Aye."

"All's left is the common room. Two coppers for the night."

Bronn looked at Jaime. "You got a room?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll be sharing with him."

The girl nodded and walked away.

Jaime began to speak. "Why are…?"

"Later," Bronn quickly said. "I'm cold and hungry and there are too many ears here."

"I'm not going back."

"Later."

They ate in mostly silence, Bronn's bad table manners the only noise. When done he let out a loud belch, shouted his thanks to the cook, and then ordered two more ales.

"We'll take these to our room," he told the girl and she led them upstairs. Bronn paid a copper for some wood for the hearth and in a few moments had a fire going. Jaime sat on the narrow bed.

"The floor is yours," he said.

"Not the first time. Give me a pillow at least." There were two on the bed and so Jaime tossed him one.

Bronn took his boots off and his cloak and put them by the hearth to dry. He stirred the embers and got the fire higher and then sat on the only chair in the room, a wooden high backed one.

"I'm not going back," Jaime said as he took his own boots off, awkwardly with only one good hand. But he was used to it.

"Thought you might feel that way. You're fucking mad, you know, heading north."

"How so?"

"The Starks hate you."

"Why do you think so?"

"Cause Pod told me they think you pushed the little Stark boy from a tower when you got caught fucking the Queen."

"A lie. He fell, was not pushed."

"Fair enough. But you did kill the dragon Queen's father, aye?"

"Yes."

"She'll feed you to her dragons."

"She saw me at the parley in the Dragonpit. She never said a word to me."

"Other things on her mind, I suppose." Bronn drank his ale down and looked at the cup in Jamie's hand which he had not even sipped. Jaime handed it over without a word and Bronn took a big gulp.

"I'm not going back," Jaime repeated.

"She told me to find a way to make you. So do I have to knock you out and put a sack over your head?"

"Try it!"

Bronn laughed. "You and me been dancing a lot the last few years. How many times you won?"

None was the answer so Jaime said nothing. "Right," said Bronn. "In the morning we'll head back."

"I can still kill you in your sleep."

"Aye, but I doubt you'll do it."

"Why are you doing Cersei's bidding? I thought you hated her."

"Aye, but she's in charge now and she can give me all you and your brother have been promising me for years."

Jaime laughed and was happy to see Bronn looked concerned. "She's a liar. She makes and breaks promises like most people break wind. She tore up a parchment with Robert's death bed wishes in front of the whole court. How many lies have passed her lips over the years I know not."

"Maybe so, but we still need you. The army needs you."

"Good gods man, why do you think I am here? Hasn't she told you?"

"Told me what?"

"The Lannister army is not going north."

"Aye, I know."

"And?"

"So we will need you when the war among the people continues."

"There will be no war among the people. The Night King will win!"

"But she's got dragons!"

"And they can be hurt! You did that yourself."

"Lot of good it did. Didn't kill him."

"He still has a hundred thousand soldiers and every living person who dies becomes one more. You didn't see that thing, how fast it moved, how determined it was to kill us."

"I heard. So, we leaving in the morning or not?"

"Yes, I am heading north, where the real war is and where every sword is needed. You can go where you want."

Bronn stared at him for a long moment. "Fuck. Going to make me earn my lordship, are you?"

"You can always come with me."

Bronn said nothing to that and Jaime said no more. He laid down on the bed, pulled the blankets over him with his good hand, and in his bone weary state was soon asleep.

The dawn light through a broken shutter slat awoke him. He looked at the floor and Bronn was gone. The fire had died down so Jaime got up and added the last few sticks of wood to the embers and soon had it going again.

Just then Bronn came in with a sack over his shoulder.

"For me?" Jaime asked.

"Our food. Bought what I could from the innkeeper. It's going to be a long trip."

"It's only a two day ride back to King's Landing."

"Aye, but we're not going there."

"What?"

"All right, you convinced me. Well, maybe not you, but I sat in that chair for a long time and knew I could never stay around your sister and keep my head for long. Especially if I came back without you."

"You can still try to take me."

"I could, but we been through too much together. And that little shit of a brother of yours is up there, as is Pod and many more who will need our swords."

Jaime nodded and felt a sense of relief. He would not be traveling alone after all. But Bronn had a price.

"Before we move you tell me some truths."

Gods. "What truths?"

"Brandon Stark?"

Jaime hesitated and thought to tell him to go to hell, but if it was redemption he wanted, confession was the first part. "He saw us…together. I pushed him," he said in a low voice, his eyes cast down, the guilt too strong even after all this time

"Who knows?"

"Only Cersei…and now you. Tyrion has long suspected. Anything else?"

"The children, yours or Roberts?"

"Mine," Jaime replied in irritation. "You knew that already."

"Aye, but you needed to own to it."

"So now you know. Anything else?"

"I'm sure I will think of something as we ride."

"I'm sure to be looking forward to it."

After a quick hearty breakfast they got on their horses and headed north on the Kingsroad.

"So what's the North like?" Bronn asked.

"Cold."

"Aye, I figured that much."

"Big and empty. More so now I suppose."

"Good ale?"

"Yes."

"Whores?"

"Tyrion would know better than me. But yes, they have them."

"Good. As long as there is drink and women, no place can be too bad."

"We are not going on a tour."

"I wouldn't know what one of them is."

On they rode, heading for they knew not what, but more than likely it would mean their deaths, one way or another. And yet they kept going, whereas any sane man would have turned around and ran. But there was no running from what lay ahead, the demons and Jaime's past. Both would find him eventually. Best to get on with it, and then at last he could find redemption, or the peace of a grave. But then he had an awful thought.

"Bronn, if I die, make sure you burn me. If I come back as a wight you are the first one I kill if you don't."

"Fair enough. And you do the same for me."

"Of course."


	2. Chapter 2

**Game of Thrones Season 8 - Chapter 2**

 _There was an overwhelming and unexpected positive response to the first chapter. Thank you all for your kind words and follows. I only hope I can continue to provide the quality you expect. Enjoy._

* * *

 **White Harbor – Jon**

The Queen was given the most lavish rooms in the castle, high in the west wing, and that's where Jon found her late in the evening. He tried to stay away, knew what he was doing was causing grumbling and would cause more when those in Winterfell found out, but he could not help himself, and knew in his heart he was in love once more. But he had yet to tell her. Maybe now was the time. He knew not how she would react, but he could see in her eyes she felt something for him as well.

Two Unsullied guards stood outside the doors. They knew who he was and did not move or even seem to look at him as he approached. He knocked and Missendei answered the door. To Jon's surprise he saw Tyrion in the room as Missendei opened the door wide.

"Ah, Lord Snow," Tyrion said. "Or is it King Jon? The nature of your position is rather confusing now."

"Jon, I am just Jon," he said as he strode into the room, a solar, with two doors leading to other rooms. Dany and Tyrion were sitting at her table, with food and drink on it, candles giving light. Tyrion had a cup of wine in hand and looked like he had had a few already. A cup was in front of Dany, but she did not touch it.

"Yes, but your people still think you are their King," Tyrion said.

"Not anymore," Jon told him. "I named myself Warden of the North in my letter to my sister."

"Yes," said Dany. "So that settles that. From now on he is Lord Snow, Warden of the North."

"Good, good," said Tyrion. "Let us hope your people accept you as such."

"I know the people of the North better than you I think," Jon replied, tiring of his smart mouth. He liked Tyrion but he would go on if you let him. "They will grumble, and they will question it, but in the end they will remain loyal to House Stark and accept it."

"And your brother Brandon will become Lord Stark of Winterfell?" Tyrion asked.

"Yes…I suppose so."

"Yet the Lord of Winterfell has traditionally been the Warden of the North."

"Traditions can be broken," Dany said.

"Bran is a cripple, as you well know," Jon said to Tyrion. "He cannot serve as a battle commander, and has neither the training nor experience of leadership."

"Good points," Tyrion replied. "Well, that is settled. Now to the next topic. Viserion."

Jon looked in confusion at Dany. "Sit," she said to him as she gave him a look of exasperation, obviously also tired of whatever Tyrion had been saying. "Lord Tyrion has been letting his mind run riot as usual. He wants to know how we will kill Viserion."

Jon sat, nearer to her than Tyrion, and when Missendei offered to pour him some wine he shook his head no and she stepped back. "Viserion is already dead," Jon said. "Now he is a wight. I believe one stab of dragon glass or Valyrian steel will destroy him."

Dany had a small sharp intake of breath as Jon mentioned 'destroy'. Tyrion looked at her. "He is dead, Your Grace, and there is nothing we can do to bring him back. The sooner you accept that the easier it will be to take care of him."

Jon could not help but agree with Tyrion. "He's right. The wights cannot become what they once were, Your Grace."

"I understand and I hope you both understand he was my child. He was born in the fire with me, as were Drogon and Rhaegal. What you ask is…difficult."

"It must be done," Jon said in as gentle a tone as he could. She looked at him and her eyes were moist but she then seem to harden her will and she nodded.

"Very well. How can we get close enough to do what you say?"

Tyrion answered. "You must bring him down somehow, with the other two. With fire."

"Is that possible?" Missendei asked. "Dragons are fire. Will fire hurt them?"

"Most certainly," said Tyrion. "At the least the histories tell us so. The Dance of the Dragons saw dragon pitted against dragon. Fire, tooth, and claw killed both riders and dragons. In the case of Viserion, he is really not a dragon anymore. He is a wight and we know fire will destroy wights."

Jon had one problem with that. "The report says he breathed blue fire and took down the Wall."

Tyrion seemed concerned about this. "Yes, it doesn't quite fit. If he is a wight how can he breathe fire?"

"Not fire," said Missendei. They all looked at her. "You said it was blue fire," she told them. "Is fire blue?"

"It can be," Tyrion replied. "Certain substances burn with different colored flames."

But Missendei was not convinced. "Maybe it is something else…something…of the dead."

"Possibly," Tyrion said. "We know not what powers this Night King has. Blue fire…or whatever it is…may be one of them."

"It did melt the ice," Jon reminded them. "It might just be able to burn us as well. Maybe we don't have to get close to him, don't have to bring Viserion down. If we can kill the Night King maybe the rest will crumble to nothing."

"So you say," Tyrion replied.

"It happened. I saw it," Jon replied in a defensive tone. "So did Mormont and the Hound and everyone who was there."

"I believe it happened," said Tyrion. "The reason why it happened is less certain."

"How so?" Dany asked. "Jon killed the White Walker and almost all his followers were destroyed."

"Yes, I understand, Your Grace," said Tyrion. He looked to Jon. "But you claim this is not the first White Walker you have destroyed."

"I killed one at Hardhome with Longclaw," Jon told him.

"And what happened then?"

"It shattered into ice and blew away."

"Did any of its wights die?" Dany asked.

"I…I'm not sure. It was battle, chaos. I was too busy to notice. And surprised I had killed it."

"So, the evidence is not solid," Tyrion said as if Jon was on trial. "I would like to not depend on such a strategy where all our lives hang in the balance."

"Aye," Jon could not help but agree. "But I do know one thing. It will come down to me and him. We get him on the ground, get me close to him…and I will finish it."

Before anyone could answer a knock came to the door and Missendei answered. It was Lord Varys and Ser Davos. Varys had a raven scroll in his hand.

"Your Grace, we have news," Davos said.

"Troubling news," Varys added. "A contact of mine reports the Lannister army has not moved from the capital."

Jon stood and looked at him in surprise. "It's been eight days since we left. They haven't moved north at all?"

"Not one soldier," Varys told them.

"She lied," Dany said at once.

"Of course she lied!" Tyrion said in anger. "She is my father's daughter, after all."

Jon looked at the scroll in Varys' hands. "What does it say?"

"It says not one Lannister soldier has moved up the Kingsroad. And there is even more disturbing news. Ser Jaime seems to have disappeared."

"What?" Tyrion said, going pale. He stood and took the scroll from Varys and read quickly, then looked to Varys. "Who sent this? Who has ravens?"

"I'd rather not say. He is sticking his neck out to give us this information."

Dany stared at him. "Tell us."

"Very well, Your Grace," Varys said. "It is from Duskendale, a certain noble, who knows a merchant who is supplying food for the capital. Said merchant reported what his captain said after a return voyage to King's Landing."

"Second and third hand news at best," Tyrion said dismissively. "Rumors."

"We must assume it is true," said Davos.

"Yes," Dany agreed. "We must assume the worst. So…she lied. Why?"

"Because she is a devious whore," Tyrion said. "Forgive my words, but she is."

"Only one reason she would do this," Jon began, starting to understand the true nature of Cersei Lannister. "She is only concerned with one thing, herself on the Iron Throne. She thinks we don't need her men. She thinks we can win on our own. But we will be weakened…and then she will strike us."

Dany sighed. "She is a devious…whatever." She stared at Tyrion, her eyes cold and hard. "When this is all over, when we have won, if she does not surrender, I will burn her and that city to the ground."

"You have my blessing," Tyrion said.

Jon looked at Tyrion. "Where's your brother?"

"I…I know not. She…no she loves him, she would not harm him."

Davos spoke. "How would Ser Jaime react if she told him not to bring the army north?"

"The noble fool would protest," Tyrion said at once. "He knows it is the right thing to do."

"Would the army listen to him?" Jon asked.

"Not if Cersei gave a command to stay put," Tyrion answered. "They would not mutiny. My father trained them too well for that. And they all fear Cersei now."

"So," Dany said. "We are now deprived of a third of our forces. We will have to win or lose with what the North has, our Unsullied, and the Dothraki."

"There are other armies," Davos said. "The Reach still has men, the Stormlands, Dorne."

"None that can get here in time," Jon said. He looked at Dany. "And you say your contacts with Dorne are dead or captured, Your Grace?"

"Most likely all dead by now," Dany said.

Tyrion nodded. "And not in a pleasant way, if I know my sister."

* * *

 **King's Landing – Qyburn**

He made his way to the underground cells, two guards opening doors as he walked. One carried a lantern as well, to light the darkness. The black cells were aptly named, for no light penetrated to these depths. Men and women had gone mad down here, without anyone harming them at all. As he walked Qyburn wondered at what stage of madness Ellaria Sand was at. And what stage of decay her dead daughter was in.

Both were quite far gone he knew before he even reached the cell. The smell wafting into the corridor was atrocious, but he was used to such smells. The guards not so much, and one gagged and nearly vomited. Qyburn took the lantern from him and dismissed him.

"Thank you, my lord," the man said and he hurried away. Once inside the large cell Qyburn put the lantern down. He didn't really need it, as the cell was well lit, per the Queen's orders. Ellaria was chained to the wall on the left, her dead daughter on the right, though chained she was no longer. Her skin had come off as her rotting wrists and hands had slid though the shackles. A pile of clothing and rotting flesh was all that remained of a once beautiful girl, a few bones sticking out, the flesh greenish black, near its final stages of rotting. It was more than a month since she was placed here. Insects of many types hovered on and around her flesh, picking what they could, growing fat on her remains.

Ellaria's dull eyes stared at him. "Kill me," she croaked. Her clothing was stained with feces and urine and food, a thin gruel it looked like, all they could force her to eat. Her lower legs were stained with her foulness as was the floor below her, adding to the stench of death.

Qyburn had brought a wine skin with him and he held it to her lips. At first she did not drink and then she did so eagerly.

"It is not poisoned," he told her and her eyes told him of her disappointment.

"Let me die," she gasped as he pulled the wine skin away.

"In good time. The Queen demands justice, and so she shall have it."

"I have been punished enough."

"You must be grateful," Qyburn said. "I had a different fate in mind for you…but was denied."

"What fate?"

"Oh, something quite painful."

"Do it."

"I think not. The Queen would be most disappointed."

"Then cut my throat and be done with me."

Qyburn said nothing, turned and took up the lantern. "KILL ME!" she managed to shout, and as he and the guard walked away her sobs filled the air behind them.

Another turn and he came to a row of cells. From them came sobs and cries and shouts, all of which he ignored. Faces appeared at the small barred windows set in steel doors, eager for the light.

"Mercy," one woman cried.

"I beg forgiveness!" shouted a young man.

"I will do anything," sobbed a young lady.

"The Watch, send me to the Wall," a man said, his voice stronger than the rest. Qyburn stopped and looked at him. "Perhaps," he said and the man let out a long sigh. The man was a common thief, nothing more. The Wall would need new recruits when the war ended…if the man lived long enough perhaps he would get a chance to prove his loyalty to the realm and his Queen.

Up they went, to the upper levels, where more people were held. Qyburn took a list from the head gaoler, looked down it at the names and the people's crimes, and then ticked off ten names with a stub of charcoal the gaoler had handed him. "The gallows," was all he said. Their crimes were no more severe than anyone else, and the names he selected had no special meaning. Just ten less mouths to feed. And they were criminals after all.

He came to his rooms at last, tired from walking, and cleaned himself and changed his robes for fresh ones. Some lemon water he sprinkled on his skin and clothing, to reduce any residual smell of death. It would not do to smell foul in front of his Queen. But first he had one more person to visit.

Qyburn thought he would take her with him, but the Queen insisted she stay here…as a hostage to Euron Greyjoy's word. Euron protested but Cersei had insisted and Euron had finally relented. But he insisted she be treated well, not in the black cells, when he took her from his ship to the Red Keep. There was a strange dynamic between his niece and him, and Qyburn thought it was of a sexual nature. Euron liked to flirt and flaunt his sexual appetites, and from what Qyburn's little whisperers had learned from his crew when in their cups, Euron Greyjoy liked all tastes of a sexual nature. Perhaps even his own kin.

Yara Greyjoy was not held in a cell, but in more of a lord's, or in her case a lady's, prison. Perhaps lady was not a word for her either, for she insisted on wearing men's garb and acted more like a common sailor than a lady of a great house.

She was held in a high tower, where once Baelor the Blessed had held his sisters so he would not be tempted to enjoy their flesh. They had only been here a short time, before Baelor had created the Maidenvault rooms behind the sept of the Red Keep for their permanent confinement. The tower room was a nice prison, as prisons went, but there was no escape, with only two narrow barred windows, a hundred feet above the sea, and the one solid guarded door to leave by. He found her lying on her bed, reading a book, one of many he had left with her. Food was on a nearby table as was a jug of ale. Ale, she had insisted on, not wine.

She gave him an insolent look as he entered with two guards behind him. He knew she may try to kill him so the guards were a necessity.

"What do you want?" she asked as she sat up and put the book down.

"To talk."

"Piss off."

She stood and went to the table and poured herself some ale.

"Your brother lives," he said and the cup stopped halfway to her lips. She then drank and looked at him. She nodded to a nearby chair and he sat and so did she opposite him.

"How do you know?" Yara asked.

"I saw him a week or so past, here in King's Landing."

She made a scornful laugh. "You're a terrible liar. If Theon was here he'd be in a cell now. Or dead."

"He is neither. We had a parley with Daenerys Targaryen and her people. Theon was with them."

"Go on."

"He looked well. Your uncle tried to bait him to anger by telling him he would kill you if he did not submit."

"Did he submit?"

"No."

"No. Of course not," she said with disgust. "He is safe now, with his Queen and her dragons and the rest. Euron must have been disappointed."

"He seemed to be more concerned with making your brother uneasy than anything else."

"That's our uncle for you. He always was a cunt."

"There is no love between you it seems."

"Euron is the black sheep of the Greyjoy family," Yara said. "Hated by all."

"Yet you still live."

She snorted. "Hasn't he told you? I am the heir to the Seastone Chair."

"Oh, indeed? That is news I have not yet heard."

"Tell your Queen she has a rival," Yara said with a small measure of glee. "Euron has kept me alive for only one reason, to marry me himself or to one of his loyal men in the Iron Islands. To make babies for the future of the Greyjoy line."

"A sound strategy."

"Any man who tries to stick his cock in me will lose it."

"Do you not enjoy the company of men?"

She laughed. "Once, years ago, I had a taste. Now I prefer to taste what's between a woman's legs. Tell your Queen that if she ever feels lonely."

"I think she prefers the company of men exclusively."

Yara swilled her ale and poured some more. "Too bad. If she wasn't such a bitch I might fancy her. Course she can't hold a candle to the dragon Queen."

"She is a beauty."

"Was she really here?"

"Yes…with Tyrion Lannister and many more…including Jon Snow. He came down from the North to forge an alliance with her."

"Ned Stark's bastard. They say he is quite the man now."

"Quite."

"I am surprised he did not kill Theon."

"There seemed to be no animosity between them. Not so between your uncle and Theon."

"Euron will make fools of you all yet. Don't trust him, ever."

"We don't. Should we trust you?"

Yara gave him a wary look. "What do you want?"

"Nothing…at the moment. Good day."

He made to leave but Yara stood and stepped in his way. The two guards started forward but Qyburn gave them a look and they stopped.

Yara got right in his face. "If she prefers to continue fucking her brother, Euron will try to kill him, in an honorable way of course. If Ser Jaime refuses to rise to his baiting, then he will be murdered somehow, somewhere."

"Of course, that is possible."

"He will abandon you in the middle of a fight if it suits him."

"And what of you?" Qyburn asked. "Would you abandon your Queen if it suits you?"

Yara laughed. "Join you lot? Are you mad?"

"No."

"Never, not if Euron is on your side."

"And if he was not? Would you like to be Queen of the Iron Islands?"

Yara hesitated and he knew he had her. Then her look hardened. "The only way my people would accept me as ruler is if I killed Euron. And that is not going to happen while I am in here."

"I will express your desires to the Queen."

"I never said I would join you," she protested.

"No. But you will think on it. Good day."

"Where has he gone?" she shouted as he neared the door.

Qyburn turned. "You saw?"

She nodded to one of the windows. "The fleet sailed away seven days ago. Where? Dragonstone? The North? Or has he already abandoned you?"

Qyburn gave her a cryptic smile and then left.

He made his way to the raven rookery, to find if any news had arrived. Some had, minor reports from minor lords, pledging their allegiance to Cersei or reporting on what men and supplies they could spare, which was little in all cases. One message was from a spy of his in Dorne, which said that Lord Anders Yronwood was vying to replacing the Martell family with his own as leaders of Dorne. An opportunity was here, Qyburn knew. He would have to have words with the Queen about this. He was about to leave when one more raven flew in. He took the scroll from the young maester who looked after the ravens.

"From Castle Black, my lord," the maester said and Qyburn quickly read it. A short time later he made his report to the Queen.

"So, the great Wall has fallen," she said from behind the desk where once her father had ruled the Seven Kingdoms. "And the Night King has a dragon. Is this the third dragon?"

"Very likely, Your Grace. There are only three known in the world."

"How did he get it?"

"Uncertain. But if it serves the wight army, it must have died and been reanimated. They did capture a wight. Perhaps it happened then."

"If so she is a bigger fool than I thought. Sacrificing a dragon just to capture a wight?"

"I doubt that was the plan, Your Grace

She ignored his words and looked at the scroll in front of her. "This lord commander of the Night's Watch, Eddison Tollett. Why would he tell us such information? Are they not on the side of Jon Snow?"

"The Night's Watch does not take sides, Your Grace. The lord commander is asking for aid. You are the Queen, it is natural for him to ask for our help. I am sure he sent all his ravens to everyone he could."

"We have nothing to offer him."

"Your Grace, this changes…"

"Nothing!" she shouted at him and he bowed.

"Of course, Your Grace."

Her anger simmered for a moment and then she picked up the scroll. "Who are these people…Tormund, Dondarrion…oh, yes, Lord Beric. A charming man, once. Until he went off to do Ned Stark's bidding. And then he formed a rebel outlaw band. My father wanted his head."

"A man who is hard to kill by all reports, Your Grace. They say he died six times and was brought back to life each time."

"Nonsense."

"Perhaps. But all reports say the same thing. I have heard Ser Gregor once reported that he killed Dondarrion and later saw him alive again."

Cersei looked at Ser Gregor, hovering nearby as always, who seemed to understand. His head gave a short nod.

"How did he come back to life?" she asked Qyburn.

"With the help of a priest of the Lord of Light. Thoros of Myr."

"I remember Thoros. A drunkard with a flaming sword. Robert, of course, loved him. Where is he now?"

"With Dondarrion I suppose, Your Grace."

She put the scroll down as if that was an end to that. "Tell me the rest."

He gave his reports, and she gave her his blessing to try to contact Lord Yronwood to forge an alliance. Finally he told her about his conversation with Yara Greyjoy.

"You are playing a dangerous game," she said to him, a hint of menace in her tone. "I do not trust her."

"We cannot trust any of the Greyjoys, Your Grace. She has confirmed what we suspected. Euron has only kept her alive as he plans on using her as a backup in case you refuse his advances."

Her face curdled in disgust. "Robert should have wiped them all out when he had a chance."

"Yes. But they do have their uses, Your Grace. We need their fleet."

"Once Euron delivers the Golden Company he will ask me to marry him again."

"He will, Your Grace. Yara Greyjoy seems to think he will also try to kill Ser Jaime if you continue to refuse to marry him."

"Well, then it is a good thing Ser Jaime is not here," she replied, her voice hollow with disappointment. "Any word from Ser Bronn?"

"No, Your Grace. But it has only been a few days. I am sure he will return with him soon."

"Bronn is a sellsword," the Queen reminded him. "I am sure of nothing he will do until it is done."

* * *

 **The Kingsroad – Jaime**

The crossroads inn was where it had always been, for centuries, seeing the world move past it. Now it was seeing a new world, for when they came around the bend in the road on a late afternoon Jaime and Bronn saw that some of the Dothraki had decided to make camp here for the night.

Their tents filled every space nearby the inn and road, with fires burning bright. They were cooking, eating, and drinking, and hardly spared them a glance.

"Let's hope no one recognizes us," Jaime said.

"Why would they?" Bronn asked as they eased their horses up to the hitching railing outside the inn. "Anyone of them that saw me is dead now."

"Some of them may have been in the Dragonpit."

"Could be," Bronn replied. "Well, if we are going to die, let's go enjoy our last meal."

Inside it was crowded with more Dothraki, filling the tables, drinking and gambling, cursing and shouting. The innkeeper looked terrified as did the serving girls. One Dothraki tried to pull a girl into his lap and another of his mates shouted at him. He let the girl go, and the two men stood and argued and had their weapons ready to fight. Just then a very large Dothraki came in and glared at the two men. Words passed their lips and the big man nodded for them to go outside. Out they went, followed by many more, and soon they heard the clash of steel and then a shout of pain and one of joy.

"They do like to fight," said Bronn as they now sat at an empty table. A fat boy came over to clear away the empty dishes and cups. He had just filled his tray when he stopped and stared at them and then quickly moved away.

"He knows you," Bronn said.

"Well, I don't know him. I have never been here."

"I have. This is where Catelyn Stark took Tyrion prisoner."

"Yes, so I heard," Jaime replied. A foolish act that had led to much blood being spilled. "Strange how all that turned out. You just happened to be here and followed Lady Stark?"

"She seemed like she would pay us well. Course your brother paid better."

"Lady Stark must have hated you for siding with Tyrion."

Bronn shrugged. "Wouldn't know." Bronn glanced past Jaime and cursed. "Fuck."

The big Dothraki came over to them and looked at Jaime. "Lannister," he said in his guttural accent.

"Yes," said Jaime, seeing no sense in denying it, which would probably only make them angry. He could see Bronn's eyes go flat and he gave him a slight shake of his head. "I am Ser Jaime Lannister."

The Dothraki stared at him. "Men. Where?"

"Coming. Soon. Later." The Dothraki didn't seem to understand. "Tomorrow. Ah…never mind."

The Dothraki looked at them and then nodded once and walked away. Some of his men came back in the inn and sat at a table with their leader. They could see them with bent heads talking and occasionally glancing over at them.

The fat boy came back. "Yes, my lords, what will it be?"

Bronn looked at him. "How do you know we're lords?"

"Ah, because…you got swords…and…lords carry swords?"

Bronn laughed. "Go on now, tell it true."

The boy gulped and nodded to Jaime. "I know you are the Queen's brother…my lord."

"How?" Jaime asked.

"I used to live in King's Landing. Seen you before, my lord. Riding in the streets with the Kingsguard. And everyone knows you just got one hand now. My lord."

He nodded to where Jaime had his fake hand awkwardly placed on the table. The glove covered it but it still looked stiff and unnatural.

"Well, keep that to yourself," Jaime said as he pulled the hand down under the table. "And fetch us some ale and whatever is good."

"Meat pie is good, my lord. The gravy is…"

"Two meat pies, then," Bronn interrupted. "And don't eat it all before you serve it!"

The boy blushed and scurried away. "Size of him you'd think they never had a war in these parts," Bronn said.

They ate and it was good, and Bronn gave the boy an extra copper for their food. A gold piece got them a room, and Bronn cursed the innkeeper for robbing them, but they paid anyway.

In the morning after they ate trouble waited for them outside. The Dothraki were all ready to move, on their horses, and were now staring at Bronn and Jaime.

"You," said the big leader. "Winterfell?"

"Yes," Jaime said before he could think of a good lie.

"Come. We ride."

"Bloody hell," said Bronn. All the Dothraki were looking at them and it was hard to refuse.

"At least no one will attack us," said Jaime as he walked to his horse. The snow nearby was stained red from where the Dothraki had died the night before.

"No," said Bronn, stepping over the blood stains. "But one of them may get an idea to cut our throats one night."

"Yes, they may. But I have a feeling their Queen told them to behave on their journey north. The Dothraki are not known to be polite but it seems they are trying."

"With us at least," Bronn said as he looked down at the bloody snow and then back to Jaime. "Let's hope it stays that way till we get to Winterfell."

* * *

 **Winterfell – Arya**

They were scared of her, everyone was, even her sister. Bran not so much, but Bran had reasons of his own for everyone to be scared of him as well. Arya didn't mind that they were scared of her. All her years in Winterfell as a child no one had been afraid of her. Now they could hardly look at her.

It was Baelish, of course. She had slashed his throat without a glimmer of care crossing her face. Soon the whole castle knew what she had done and how she had done it. They took his body outside and burned it, without ceremony, with no prayers. Burn the bodies Jon had told them, Sansa said, and so they did. All the dead from the battle were now ash and bone piles outside of the castle. Baelish's ashes and remaining bones were added to the rest.

"And so ends that," Lord Royce had said when the pyre was lit. "I must send a raven to my lord."

Sansa nodded. "What will you tell him?"

"The truth seems appropriate. There have been enough lies. My ladies." He dipped his head and walked back into the castle.

That had been more than a week ago. Now it was morning and she was in her room, getting dressed as she thought on these things. It was the same room she had slept in for most of her life, and she was home. But it was not home, not really. So much was different. Her mother, father, and two of her brothers were dead. So were so many more. Maester Luwin, Ser Rodrik, Jory Cassel, Septane Mordane, and many, many more were dead. When she heard how Theon had captured the castle and killed Ser Rodrik, she added him to her list of names. Sansa told how Theon had saved her from the Boltons, but that didn't matter. He would have to die. But she didn't tell Sansa for she knew she would only argue with her.

Sansa and she were sisters again, but Sansa was wary of her. She knew about the faces now, and when word came to Winterfell of how all the Frey's were now dead, Sansa had confronted her.

"They say a Northern girl killed them," she said. "A girl who wore Walder Frey's face as a mask."

"Yes," was all Arya said and she had walked away, Sansa gaping at her in disbelief.

Bran knew. She found him by the weirwood one day in the godswood. "You did what was right," he said without even a hello. "The Freys deserved to die."

"I know. That's why I did it."

"You have killed many."

"Not enough."

"No, not enough."

Now she was not near any enemies, so they would have to wait. But more would come, a new enemy, one she had not fought before. The Wall had fallen.

And Jon was coming home.

They had received the raven yesterday. Jon and the Queen would fly on her dragons to Winterfell as soon as possible. She would finally get to see a dragon. And Jon, at last.

Arya felt a lump form in her throat as she thought of Jon. No, not now, she told herself. I cannot become a weepy little girl, not now. She steeled her will and forced back the pinpricks of tears that had been forming behind her eyes. Years had passed and so much had happened. He was changed and so was she. But he was still her brother, no matter what Sam and Bran said.

She liked Sam, despite his obvious cravenness. A craven he seemed, but he was not, not really. When Gilly told them the stories of things Sam had done, Arya knew he was not a craven. Yet, he still acted like one, nervous, shy, hardly looking at someone when he spoke. Strange.

She slipped Needle into her belt and the dragon bone hilt dagger as well. She had just reached her door when Sansa opened it from outside.

"They are here!" her sister told her.

Down the stairs of the great central keep they ran and at the bottom they almost ran over Sam. "The dragons have come!" Sansa told him and outside they went. Everyone it seemed was running for the main gate or the walls.

And then came the screech. From on high it came and Arya craned her neck and there she could see, two dragons, massive beasts, circling the castle, and on one of them, the biggest, were two figures. Outside the main gates they landed, and Arya rushed with the rest to see.

She could not believe how big they were, seeming to fill the land between the castle and winter town. All around them snow was melting and steaming and forming pools of water. The largest one bent its neck and down came a blond woman…and Jon.

He looked much older, taller, stronger, with a thick beard, and long hair. He was dressed in furs and leathers, with the direwolf sigil on his armored neck piece, and a wolf's head pommel on his sword.

They stepped forward side by side and Arya wanted to run forward…but then Sansa got down on one knee…and most followed her, including Arya,…but not all.

"Welcome to Winterfell, Your Grace," Sansa said, doing it properly, as she had been trained all her life to be a lady.

"Thank you, Lady Stark," Daenerys Targaryen said. "Rise, everyone."

They did so and now Jon came forward, eyes only on her and she ran forward and then she was in his strong arms and he held her tight. "Gods, I have missed you," he said. "Where have you been?"

"It's a long story," she said as he put her down. She held her emotions in check but she could not help but blurt out. "You will always be my brother."

He gave her a puzzled look. "Aye, of course." Then he ruffled her hair like he used to do and she laughed and so did he. He looked at her belt and surprise came into his eyes.

"Is it Needle?"

"Yes…and its pointy end has been of good service."

He looked worried at those words and then he nodded. "We'll talk later. Let me introduce our Queen. Your Grace, my sisters, Sansa and Arya Stark." As they dipped their heads to her he looked around. "Where is Bran?"

"Coming!" said Sam as he pushed Bran's chair with Ghost bounding alongside of them.

"Hey boy," Jon said as Ghost came up to him and licked his face. "I missed you, too."

Then he was hugging Sam and Bran as well. Bran looked at Jon. "We must talk."

"Aye, we will. Let us get inside first. And we need food for the dragons."

"What do they eat?" Arya asked.

"Anything," said the Queen. "But they prefer meat."

The great hall was filled and food and drink were brought. Jon, the Queen and his brother and sisters occupied the head table. Jon stood and walked in front of the table and began to speak.

"My lords, and lady, I know you named me King in the North. A title I accepted, when there seemed no other options and we faced many enemies. I appreciate the loyalty you have shown my house and my family. And above all I am eternally grateful for the sacrifices made in the fight to retake Winterfell. But now we enter a new time, with new troubles, and new enemies. And we need more allies. We need unity. I have bent the knee to Daenerys Targaryen for these reasons and more. The war is not over yet, and we need her and her dragons. And we need a strong leader. She is all of those things. Now say what you will and I will listen."

There was a hesitation and finally Lord Glover stood. "Begging your pardons, my King, but I went to war with her family. So did your father and many more, some of the men in this room. We fought and many died because of the madness in the Targaryen line, the madness of her father. I don't trust her, and neither should you." As he sat many voiced their agreement. Arya glanced at the Queen and she sat serenely, as if nothing was amiss. She was a cool customer, for sure.

Jon nodded. "I understand your point, my lord. But that war is over. I know her. She is not mad like her father. And we do not punish children for the crimes of their parents. Aye, the Targaryens of old did terrible things, but that was then. This is now. If we cannot find a way to unite, we are surely doomed."

Lord Manderly stood. "My King, can we not unite without bending the knee? Surely there is room in the Seven Kingdoms for two rulers."

Lady Mormont stood and seemed mad. "That would only lead to chaos, my lord, like the fighting of the last few years. Five rulers or two, it will still lead to more war. King Jon is right. We need unity, stability, not more infighting. The Night King is coming and I for one will bend the knee if it means her dragons are on our side."

Daenerys now stood. "My dragons are on your side, no matter what, my lady," she said. "I am on your side…the side of the living." She hesitated a moment and then took a deep breath and spoke again. "And I will forgo any ritual bending of the knee…as long as you know your King is loyal to me. And if you are loyal to him, you will accept me as…as an equal at least, until the war is over and we can determine matters."

Daenerys sat and there was some talk after that and some grumbling and then Lord Royce rose and looked directly at Daenerys. "We are forgetting one thing, my lady. What of Cersei Lannister? She sits on the Iron Throne, not you or our King."

"Aye," Jon said. "We tried to forge an alliance with her till the dead are defeated." He hesitated but pressed on. "But it seems she is refusing to send her army north to join us."

"Is she mad?" Lord Royce said. "What does she hope to achieve by hiding in her city?"

"Our defeat," Jon said. "She thinks we can win without her men. She thinks we can win, but will be weakened. Then she will defeat us."

There was more grumbling about this and then Lady Mormont spoke again. "We waste time!" she almost shouted. "Never mind Cersei Lannister. The Night King marches south and we babble on like geese! It is time to make plans."

"Who is she?" the Queen whispered to Arya.

"Lady Lyanna Mormont of Bear Island."

The Queen gave a sharp intake of breath. "Her uncle serves me."

"Her uncle is dead. He was the Night's Watch lord commander."

"No…Ser Jorah Mormont, the lord commander's son."

"Then he would be her cousin," Arya said.

"Oh, yes. She is in command of Bear Island?"

"Yes, her mother was but she died at the Red Wedding."

"Lady Mormont is right," Lord Manderly was saying. "As usual she sees to the heart of matters. I say we put aside all the rest until the war is won."

Jon looked grim, defeated, but he could only nod. "I will agree with your wishes. Let us make our plans. Soon the Unsullied and Dothraki will arrive, and we must find room for them."

Many filed out of the great hall until only the main lords were present. Arya hovered nearby and as they were about to begin Jon looked around.

"Where is Lord Baelish?"

"Dead," said Bran.

"Dead?" Jon echoed. He looked to Sansa.

"Executed," she told him. "On my command."

"He betrayed our family," Arya said.

"And the Vale," Lord Royce added.

Jon looked from one to the other and then nodded. "Explain it all later. Now, let us begin," he said as he bent over the map that someone had lain on a table.

Long they talked and boring it was to Arya, about supplies, and tents, and how much firewood and fodder they would need, and how much they had. Sam was at the back of the hall, sitting with his woman Gilly and her child. Arya went and sat with them. The boy was being fed some porridge by his mother.

"He seems different," Sam said as he looked towards Jon.

"He is."

"You all are," Gilly told them. "You can't go what you all went through and not be different."

Arya had to smile at that. They were all different. And Jon would be more so, soon…after they told him the news.

"Sam, we must tell him. Today."

Sam cast his eyes away. "I know, just…how will he take it?"

"Like I did," she said. "He won't believe it at first."

"It's all true," said Gilly. "He should be your King."

"Our King," Sam said to her.

"Sorry. Yes, our King."

Arya knew he would not take it well, but tell him they must. And Daenerys should know as well. But they agreed to let Jon do that, once he accepted the truth of things. Soon his whole life would be turned upside down, but she knew him well enough to believe he would shrug it off, and lead them as he was meant to do so.

She stood and went outside and climbed up to the battlements above. There she stood, looking out over the winter town and the two dragons. They were feasting on dead sheep, their bones charred and the ground around them burnt black.

Such grand and terrifying beasts…and hungry. They will eat us out soon enough, she thought. But they needed them. Food would be a worry and she knew the discussions about it inside were necessary. And once the enemy was defeated there is still the winter to follow. How long it would be no one knew. The longest ever was eleven years, Maester Luwin had once told her. But Old Nan used to tell old stories about an age of darkness the last time the White Walkers rose, where children were born and died as men and women in darkness, never seeing the sun. As she looked at the dragons she knew all the old stories were coming true.

Just then she heard a horn sounding. She looked up and on the highest tower a man was blowing a horn.

All was a rush to arms then. People came running to the battlements and Jon and the Queen ran out to the dragons. But before she could climb on her dragon, the shout came from above.

"Riders! People!"

Down the Kingsroad from the north came a group of horses and wagons, with men on them. The closer they got Arya could see a mix of people, some in black, some in furs.

Sam was by her side. "The Watch," he said. "And wildlings."

It was the Watch, the men from Castle Black, and they were bone tired. Six days they were on the road, six days of almost continuous marching, for fear lent them speed to get here. Later she heard they had not seen one wight, but it did not mean they were not coming.

As she looked at the group coming through the gates one man in furs looked up. Arya gasped, seeing those blue eyes and black hair.

"Gods," she said, scarcely able to believe it. "Gendry!" And then she shouted. "GENDRY!"

He smiled and she knew it was him. Down she almost flew to the gate and then she was there running towards him. He had a shocked look on his face, surprised at how she came running at him. He opened his arms at the last moment as she leaped at him and hugged him tight. His strong arms wrapped around her and she held on for dear life.

"Ah, Arya, ah…people are looking."

He let her go, and there were tears in her eyes, tears she could not help, and she wiped them fiercely. "I thought," she gasped. "I thought you were dead."

"Not yet."

"Gods," she said. "What happened?"

"A long story. And you?"

"The same."

"Ah, I see you know one more Stark," Jon said as he walked by.

"You know each other?" Arya asked in surprise.

"Aye," said Jon. "Gendry has done us good service. Saved our lives north of the Wall."

"What?"

"We'll explain it all later," Jon said.

And then Arya saw him…Beric Dondarrion. Her left hand went to Needle and she would have taken it out except Gendry grasped her hand first.

"Let it go," he whispered to her. "I have."

"They sold you!"

"I know, but he is our ally now. Let it go…please."

Dondarrion was looking at her. "I ask for your forgiveness, my lady."

"Never," she said in a cold voice and she turned on her heel and walked inside. After a moment she looked back at Gendry and he began to follow her.

"Why are you with them?" she asked in anger as they walked.

"Because a man saved my life from the red woman, and he asked me to help."

"Who?"

"Ser Davos Seaworth. He serves your brother, like a hand to a king. You'll meet him someday."

Arya stopped. "Did she hurt you?"

"No…but she meant to burn me."

"Gods. Is she dead?"

"Not yet."

"Good. Don't try to stop me."

"I won't."

They were quiet for a moment. "I met Hot Pie," she told him.

"What? Where?"

"Where we left him, the crossroads inn. Happy, fat, warm…alive."

"Good."

"Are you hungry?"

"Yes."

"Come."

They sat in a corner table in the great hall, he eating, she talking, and around were more reunions going on, Jon with his Night Watch brothers, and the wildlings, and gradually the story of what happened at Eastwatch was told.

"A dragon with blue fire," Gendry told her. "I never thought I'd see such a thing. I ran and ran and barely got away from the falling ice and rocks."

"Is it all gone?"

"No, but there is a big gap. Big enough."

"You saw the wights?"

"Yes. Tens of thousands."

She felt a chill as he said that. "But they can be killed?"

"Smashed one's head in with my hammer. But it didn't die till Jon killed their leader."

And then they talked on their stories, where they had been and all. She even told him about Braavos and what she had been doing. He only nodded. "Good. We all need to be killers now."

Finally he was ready to collapse from exhaustion. "Let's find you a room," she said.

"I'll sleep with the rest," he said as he stood. He swayed a bit and she grabbed his strong arm to steady him. Only now she noticed he was sweating and he looked feverish.

"Are you ill?"

"I…maybe."

She dragged him to her room and told him to strip and get in bed. He just stared at her.

"Arya…I…what? We…what?"

"Don't be silly. I'll get the maester. Do it!"

When she returned with Wolkan, Gendry was in the bed under the covers.

"A slight fever," said Wolkan after he examined him. "Not surprising after all you have been through. You are not the only one. I will make some nettle tea and bring a poultice for your chest."

He left and Arya sat in a chair near the hearth and added some more wood.

"Arya?"

"Yes?"

"I'm glad to see you again."

She smiled and felt warm inside. "Me, too."

Just then there was a knock on her door. It was Sansa. Arya stepped outside. Sansa gave her a strange look. "I hear you have a man in your bed."

"He's my friend and he's sick. Don't be stupid. What do you want?"

Her sister's face grew serious. "It is time we told Jon. Everything."


	3. Chapter 3

**Game of Thrones Season 8 - Chapter 3**

 **Winterfell – Jon**

The world tilted three times for Jon Snow that day. All he believed and all he knew was a lie.

They were all staring at him from around the table, Bran, Sam, Sansa, and Arya, and it was as if through a fog Jon was seeing them, from far away, as he tried to take in the stunning news they were telling him.

First was Bran with words Jon would never forget. "We know who your mother was," he began, after they were all seated around the table in the solar of the rooms Sansa now occupied, rooms where once their father lived….only he was not really Jon's father.

Jon thought they would want to talk about what happened to them since he last saw them, years for some, weeks for others. But no, and Bran spoke, and Jon felt a shock go through him.

"Who?" he managed to gasp, wanting the answer to this question as long as he could remember.

"Lyanna Stark," Bran said and Jon felt the world tilt for the first time.

"No," was all he could say.

"It's true," Sansa told him.

Sam gave him a sheepish look. "I know you don't want to hear this, but it's the truth."

"How can it be?" Jon snarled at them. "Are you saying my father and his sister…?" But he couldn't say the awful words.

"No!" Arya almost shouted. "No…not that…because…because…"

And Jon grasped what it meant…and pieces began to fall into place, pieces of things that had been there all along he would later think. A father who would never call him son, a mother who remained nameless, a family he was not a part of…but was really, treated by all as if he was a son and brother, except by Lady Stark. And then there was Eddard Stark, one of the most honorable men in Westeros, a man who freely admitted he took a woman not his wife to bed and fostered a child on her…a bastard son…and he told the world, when most men would have tried to hide the deed, and he was forever tainted by that shame…but it was all a lie.

"Lord Stark is not my father," Jon said, his voice weak, his eyes misting over.

"Yes," Bran said in a quiet voice, and the world titled once more.

"Then who is?" Jon asked and as if a blow struck him he knew. Lyanna was kidnapped by Rhaegar Targaryen, had died in Dorne from an illness, everyone knew all this…but what if it had been more lies?

"Rhaegar…," Bran began and Jon finished, "Targaryen."

"Yes," said Sansa, trying to keep calm but there was emotion in her voice, as if she knew how much this news would hurt him. "It's all true, Jon. Father hid it all because he feared Robert's anger if the truth were known. Aunt Lyanna never was kidnapped or raped or any of what we have been told."

"They were in love," Sam said. "And were married by the High Septon in secret."

Jon could only stare at him. "How do you know all this?"

And so they explained. Sam read from a diary, and Bran talked about visions…and how Jon was born…and how his mother died in a stone tower in Dorne.

A decanter of wine was on the table and as they spoke Jon grasped it and poured a cup and gulped it down. At the end of the story of how Lyanna died they were all very emotional, Jon more than the rest, finally knowing who his mother was and knowing she was dead in the same moment. Only Bran was calm and steady, and spoke on things he saw and things he knew to be true. But how could they be?

"Show me," Jon said when he finished.

"I can't," Bran said and then explained how Hodor was damaged for life by what Bran had done in a vision. "I have a power I cannot yet fully understand or control. I will not risk your life."

Jon sat there, stunned…and then Bran told him the rest. "Your true name is Aegon Targaryen…and you are not a bastard."

Arya gave her younger brother a nasty look. "His true name is Jon Snow, and always will be."

"Yes," agreed Sansa. "I am so sorry, Jon. But we had to tell you."

"Aye," he managed to say. He sighed heavily. "How long have you known?"

"A few days," Arya and Sansa said as one.

"Since I read the diary," Sam said.

Bran spoke last. "A while…some, but not all."

"I didn't believe it at first," Arya said. "But it might just be true."

"I don't know what to say," Jon told them. "This changes much."

"No, it doesn't," said Sansa. "You're still our brother and leader."

That felt good coming from her, with all the tensions they had had over his leadership. She gave him a look of reassurance and Jon soaked it up.

"Cousin, not brother," said Sam, and Arya and Sansa gave him dirty looks. "Well, he is. Your cousin, I mean."

"He is our brother and always will be," Sansa retorted.

"Thank you," Jon said, finding his place again, knowing what must be. "I was wrong. This changes nothing. I am what I am and always have been."

They were silent for a moment and then Bran spoke. "What do we do now?"

They all looked at Jon. "Nothing," he said. "No one will believe it. I scarcely do."

"We sent a raven to Howland Reed," Sansa told him. "He was there when you were born. He will confirm it all…well, some of it."

Jon nodded. "We will wait for what he says."

Sam suddenly spoke in a rush. "Don't you know what this means, Jon? You're the…"

Arya interrupted. "No! Don't say that!"

But Sam pressed on. "…heir to the Iron Throne!"

Again the world tilted, for the third time. Jon felt his heart pounding and he could only breathe in…and out…and in…and then he found his voice.

"Daenerys Targaryen is heir and I am…I am nothing."

"But he is…" Sam began but Arya gave him a baleful glare and his voice stopped with a squeak.

"You tell anyone any of this and it will be the last thing you do," she said in a calm and frightening tone.

"Stop it," Jon told them. "No fighting." They all looked at him again. "Arya is right. You tell no one, any of this, especially not the Queen."

"She has to know," Bran said. "Someday."

Jon shook his head. "No…never."

"She is your aunt…and you should be king," Bran continued and Jon felt as if he would be sick, suddenly realizing something else.

"I need some air," was all he said, and he left the room.

Somehow his feet took him to the battlements over the main gate but he did not remember how he got there. People he had passed had dipped their heads to him but he scarcely saw them.

He stared down at the two dragons and there she was, standing with them, looking north past the winter town, and he felt his heart lurch. How can…if it is true, how can I be with her…like that? How can I even hold her, kiss her…love her?

"Sorry," Sam said from his side, startling him a bit.

"Don't worry about it. I am glad in a way. Finally knowing."

"Yes, but…you see, you should…"

"No, Sam. Please leave it be."

Sam nodded. "As you wish. Gilly knows, but she will keep quiet."

"Good." And then Jon knew he had to tell him. "We didn't have a chance to talk much yet."

"No. But we will."

"Sam…I'm sorry but I have bad news."

Sam stared at him. "What news?"

"About your father and brother…they joined the Lannisters and…"

"What? No, they are loyal to Highgarden."

"Highgarden was taken by the Lannisters, with your father's help. Olenna Tyrell is dead."

"Gods."

"And so are your father and brother…I'm sorry."

Sam stared at him and gulped, his eyes getting moist. "How?" he managed to say.

"They were with a supply train of grain heading for King's Landing…when the Queen and the Dothraki attacked. They died in the battle." It wasn't the whole truth but he would not tell Sam what really happened…yet.

"The Queen and the Dothraki?"

"Aye…it was a massacre by all accounts."

Sam nodded and then he coughed. "I…I need to go somewhere…I need…"

"Sam…"

"No, you were right to tell me."

"Go to Gilly," Jon said.

"Yes…yes," he said and he stumbled away.

"That wasn't easy," said Arya from behind him.

He spun around and she was nearby, leaning against a battlement. She stepped closer. "You heard?" he asked.

"I did. He had to know."

"Aye."

"Are you okay?" Arya asked and he knew what she meant.

"I don't know if I ever will be."

"You're still our brother."

He turned and smiled at her. "Aye, so you said. Gods, why did he never tell me?"

"You know why."

"I suppose I do. Still…all those years…and now he is gone."

"He is still with us, in our hearts. He was a father to you Jon, even though he was not truly your father."

"Yes…he was. Now I don't know what to do."

"Do as you have been doing," she said. "The Night King is out there. He is coming. That much hasn't changed."

She was right and he knew he could not balk from the task ahead. He would steel his heart for the immediate future and if they survived all that was coming he would deal with the past, in his own way, in his own time.

"How was it?" she asked, looking down. "Flying on a dragon?"

"Terrifying…but also exciting."

"I would like to ride one."

"Perhaps. If the Queen agrees. Only she can control them."

"Yes, only…gods! Jon you are…I mean…you're one of them! Maybe you can, too."

He knew what she meant and knew the dragons had taken a liking to him…and now he knew why. "It is possible." Then he remembered something and he wanted to change the subject. "Lord Royce told me about Baelish."

"He betrayed us all," she said in bitter tones. "All because he loved my mother."

"You executed him."

"I did."

"I heard about the Freys as well. Was it you?"

"It was."

"What happened to you, Arya?"

She sighed. "I grew up. I had to."

"I'm sorry."

She changed topics now, maybe because she didn't want to talk on it. "Gendry told me how he saved your lives."

"Aye, he did. He's a good lad. How do you know him?"

"He's my friend. We traveled together in a Night's Watch party. He was going to the Wall and Yoren was helping me escape King's Landing after…after they killed Father."

"Yoren? He was sent south to find new recruits and he disappeared. Tyrion told me he heard he died on the road north, killed by the Lannisters, and all his recruits captured."

"All true. They took us to Harrenhal to serve Lord Tywin's army."

"They attacked because of you?"

"No…they didn't know who I was. I was dressed like a boy at first and later they thought I was just some common Northern girl. They were after Gendry. I still don't know why."

Jon suddenly understood. "I know why."

"What? Tell me!"

"Not my place. Best he told you himself."

She started to go. "I have to know."

"I heard he is sick," Jon said. "Leave it be for now."

She stopped. "Tell me…please."

"Come on then. I know you won't let this go till you know."

They found Gendry in Arya's room, sitting up in bed, half asleep. A fire was roaring in the hearth, making the room hot and stuffy. Around his broad chest was some linen tied tight and underneath it looked like a poultice of some type was lying next to his skin.

"Feeling better?" Jon asked.

"A bit, Your Grace," he said as he sat up more.

"You don't need to call me that anymore."

Arya burst with impatience. "Tell me why the gold cloaks were after you," she demanded.

Gendry looked at her in surprise and then back to Jon. "You told her?"

"No…I leave that to you."

He hesitated and Arya glared at him. "Well?"

"I'm the king's son," Gendry finally said. "King Robert's bastard son."

"What?" Arya said in shock.

"They wanted my head cause Joffrey wanted all his father's bastards dead."

"Gods," Arya said. "But…how do you know?"

"The red woman, she told me. King Stannis said the same when he saw me, could see his brother in my face."

Another man who never knew who his father was, Jon thought. When he first met Gendry they had bonded over their fathers' mutual friendship. Now Jon knew his true father and Gendry's had been mortal enemies. "You two have things to talk on," Jon said, coming out of his thoughts. "And I have my duties."

Arya looked at him. "Are you okay?" she asked again.

"Yes…just need to think. See you later. And let him rest some, Arya."

He left the central keep and decided to head to the barracks, to check on his friends, to be with people who knew him better than even his own family now.

Tormund and his few survivors were crammed with the Watch in one small section of barracks. The place was crowded and stuffy and more than one man was ill. This was not good, but they had to shelter them somewhere. It would be worse when the rest of the Queen's army arrived.

"How you southerners live like animals in a cage like this I will never understand," Tormund said.

"We're not southerners," Jon protested once more. "We need to build new barracks, but there is no room inside."

"Then outside," said Edd. "We can do it ourselves. We have enough builders from the Watch."

"Aye," Jon said. "Start tomorrow. Take whatever tools and men you need. There is plenty of timber in the Wolf Woods."

Edd agreed but then he had a troubled look on his face. "What is it?" Jon asked.

"His man fucked up," Tormund told him.

"What happened?"

Edd explained. "I told the twat in charge of the ravens to send out word the Wall had fallen and about the dragon and all. I wrote down what to say and he was supposed to copy it and send the word out. The fool sent one to King's Landing as well."

Jon understood. "So now Cersei Lannister knows we only have two dragons."

"Aye."

"Not to worry," Jon said. "She would find out eventually."

"Maybe knowing the Night King has a dragon will make her send her army north," Edd ventured.

"I doubt it," said Jon.

"What's she like, this brother fucker?" Tormund asked.

"Cold," Jon said. "A woman not to be trusted."

"None are," Tormund said with a laugh. "You tell me when the big woman comes back, aye?"

Jon grinned. "For certain. Should be soon."

"Good," Tormund replied. "Then it will be time to make giant babies!"

Jon had to laugh at that and it made him feel better. But as he went outside all his troubles came back to him. He needed to think, without anyone around, and in the crowded castle there was only one place he could do that, in the godswood.

He was crossing the main court yard, heading for the godswood, when Sansa saw him.

"Jon!" she called and he stopped. "Where are you going?"

"To the godswood," he said. "I need to think."

"We need to talk."

He sighed. "I know what about. Come."

The godswood was peaceful, serene, and Jon had always liked to come here when a child, to get away from Lady Stark's baleful glares. Now a new Lady Stark was making him feel just as uncomfortable. He stopped near the weirwood by the frozen pond and turned and looked at her.

"You want to know why I bent the knee, yes?"

"No…well, yes. But you explained that enough in the great hall earlier. When I first received your raven I was upset, but now I understand. And after meeting her and seeing her dragons…gods, we surely need her and them."

"Aye, we do. And Westeros needs one leader. Her."

"I am sure all the lords will agree in time. You know what they are like. Fiercely independent."

"None of us can be independent now."

"I suppose not. The real reason I stopped you was because I want to talk about the succession…of Winterfell."

"As it appears I am no longer a Stark, it is a decision you three must make."

"She named you Warden of the North and we agree with that. You are still a Stark, half Stark at least, as you have always been."

"But not Lord Stark's son. Even though I may not be bastard now, I still can't become Lord of Winterfell. If you want my advice, the title goes to Bran."

"He does not want it. And he has no experience. The things that happened to him, the way he is now…do you understand?"

"Aye. His visions. I don't know it all but soon will. So…then it falls to you. You have been doing the job for some time now, so everyone will accept you as the Lady of Winterfell."

"Arya already has. So has Bran."

"Then there is nothing to talk about."

"I wanted your approval."

"You have it…Lady Stark," he said and she blushed a bit. "I always knew one day you'd be the lady of a great house…maybe even a queen."

She sighed. "I used to dream of being a queen, until I learned the price one must pay. Do you have any advice?"

"From what Lord Royce told me you have been doing a fine job. Just don't make Arya call you Lady Stark."

Sansa smiled at that and then her face clouded over. "Do you know what she has become?"

"A dangerous person."

"Yes."

"Good. We all need to be so."

"I suppose so," she said. "Thank you. I will leave you be." She left and looked back once at him and then she was gone.

He took out his sword and put the point in the ground and held the hilt in both hands as he knelt before the weirwood and closed his eyes. For a long time he let his mind drift over his life and he absorbed all the implications of what the news he had learned meant, and sought solace in the old gods and what wisdom they could give him. In the end he realized his first instinct was correct. Tell no one, swear those who knew to secrecy, and get on with what must be done. The only shadow in all this was his relationship with Dany.

Feeling somewhat better he rose after some time, looked up and though there was no sun in the cloudy overcast he felt that the late afternoon was here. He was hungry and started to make his way to the great hall.

This time it was Dany who saw him as he crossed the main courtyard. He was not ready to talk to her yet but he had to stop and she came up to him. "Where have you been?" she asked.

"Speaking with my family…Your Grace."

She looked at him oddly. "You don't have to call me that when no one is around."

He looked around, and many people were here, working, walking, and he kept his voice low. "I know…just, I am trying to convince them to accept you as our Queen, it would help if I showed you the proper respect."

"Yes…I suppose so."

"I have some troubling news," he said and he explained about the raven to King's Landing.

"She would find out eventually," Dany agreed. "There is nothing we can do about it except hope she comes to her senses and joins us."

"I'll not place any bets on that."

"Neither would I," she replied

They were silent for a moment. "How are your quarters?" he asked, to fill the awkwardness.

"Fine," she said. And then she lowered her voice. "Do you know where I am?"

He hesitated and then spoke. "We must be cautious," he said. "My people would take it the wrong way if they knew."

She sighed. "Lord Tyrion said as much to me when we first came to White Harbor."

"He's not wrong."

"No," she said. "But…I want you…I need you."

And he still wanted her…but could not. "I am sorry. But not here, not now."

She was stung by his rejected and he was saved by the appearance of Maester Wolkan. "Raven, Your Grace…from Lord Tyrion Lannister."

He went to hand the raven to Jon but he shook his head. "Queen Daenerys is Your Grace from now on, maester."

"Forgive me," he said and dipped his head and gave the scroll to Dany. In the dimming afternoon light she read it aloud.

" _We shall leave White Harbor on the morrow at first light. Lord Varys will stay behind to command the supply lines. We have plenty of supplies and the Unsullied are being clad in better clothing. Ser Jorah suggested we leave a thousand of them behind to help defend White Harbor. I agreed, as that would ease our supply situation in Winterfell. The journey to the Kingsroad to meet the Dothraki should take about three days. We will meet them north of Moat Cailin. From there we will march north_ _to Winterfell_ _. I will send news when we reach Castle Cerwyn._ "

"They may have already left," said Jon. "How fast for a raven to reach Winterfell from White Harbor?" he asked the maester.

"A day at least," he said. "Or more if the weather is bad, my lord."

"Yes, they must already be on the way," Dany agreed. "How is the road between White Harbor and the Kingsroad?"

"Calling it a road would do it an honor, Your Grace," Maester Wolkan said

"It is hardly wide enough for a cart," Jon said. "Flat, muddy, open to the wind, with no shelter. It will be a difficult journey."

* * *

 **The Kingsroad – Tyrion**

"I hate the fucking North," the Hound growled for the hundredth time.

"So you have said already," Tyrion growled back. He was tired, and hungover, and had a sore bottom from the saddle and horse he was riding on. The special saddle he had made for himself years ago was long gone, so he had a leather worker in White Harbor make a hasty substitute, but it was not perfect.

"It not just the cold," said Ser Jorah from behind them. "The distances. A man could walk for a week and not see a living soul."

"Let's just hope we don't see any dead ones," Tyrion quipped but no one laughed, and it wasn't truly funny at all.

"A shame the river is frozen," said Ser Davos from in front. "We could have shipped the Unsullied up river faster."

"The plan was to meet the Dothraki and that has not changed," said Tyrion.

The river he spoke of was the White Knife, which flowed into the sea near White Harbor and branched up to near Winterfell. Traveling up it by river barge would have been faster, if it had not been frozen solid. As it was they had to cross from the east bank to the west bank and near White Harbor the river still flowed fast. It would have taken forever to ship everyone across by boat so they marched for almost four miles up the east bank to find a place frozen enough to carry the weight of horse and supply wagons. All the first day it took them to cross and form up on the other side and then come south again to find the road to the west. Barely two miles from the river the trees began to thin and then it was flat open plain, rocky, snowy, muddy, a land empty of people, the land unsuitable for cultivation it seemed.

"I say we stop for the night in the trees," Ser Davos suggested and all agreed. Grey Worm shouted orders to his men and they began to fell trees and set up tents and post guards. In a short time they had made a circular camp for each of the thousand man units they were divided into. Tyrion and the other leaders joined the central camp of Grey Worm. A large distance they were spread apart and Ser Jorah did not like it.

"If we are attacked we cannot support one another."

"We are far from the Wall," said Tyrion. "I don't expect to see any wights this far south."

"Yet," Ser Davos added.

"There is always the dragon," Ser Jorah reminded them and they all looked skyward nervously.

The night passed uneventful, as did the next few days. Tyrion rode and spoke at length with Brienne and Pod, and occasionally with the Hound, catching up on all their adventures of the last few years. Ser Davos spoke on his life in service to Stannis, and filled in many more gaps in the story of Westeros' wars. Tyrion wondered on the man's seemingly benign attitude toward him, as his wildfire trick had killed his son at the Blackwater, but Davos did not seem to bear any grudge.

On the third day he was riding with the Hound in the middle of the column when the subject of brothers came up. "Where is he you think?" the Hound asked.

"I don't know. If he is smart he will stay away from Cersei and the North."

"He's not smart."

"No, I fear not. His wounded sense of honor will be the death of him yet."

"Does he still want to kill you?"

"Perhaps. He hasn't said he doesn't. Yet he has had his chances and I am still here."

"You killed his father. Man doesn't forget a thing like that."

"He was my father, too." They were silent for a moment when Tyrion remembered something about the Clegane family. "I once heard a rumor Gregor killed your father."

"Aye, not a rumor. It was after my sister died."

"I did not know you had a sister."

"No one does. She was just a girl. Gregor always said it was an accident. He bumped into her and she fell down a flight of stairs in the keep. Hit her head, hard. She lived for two days. Gregor was gone by then, to Casterly Rock, to ask your father to enter his service. Running from his mistakes. He was only sixteen but he was massive so your father took him."

"Cleganes have often served my family."

"Aye, we have. Two years later he was a knight. He came home, full of pride. Father and he went on a hunt. Gregor later said our father tried to kill him, for what happened to our sister, that he was only defending himself. Bullshit, I say. He wanted the keep, the land. That's the first time I tried to kill Gregor."

Tyrion had never heard the man speak so long and on something so private before. "What happened?"

"I lost. Beat me to a pulp. His mistake was he did not finish me. Lord Tywin heard of our feud and forbade it. Soon came the war and Gregor covered himself in glory…and women and children's blood. When Joffrey was born Lord Tywin asked me to be his shield. I could not say no. In the capital I stayed and Gregor went back to our lands, all his now."

"Now my father is dead, so you are free to do as you wish. Perhaps you should thank me."

"Always with the smart mouth."

"I do try. You know, he is more dead than alive now they say."

"But he's not dead yet. That's for me to finish…and don't you or anyone else stand in my way."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"Just make sure the Queen knows it can only end in one way."

"With Gregor on Cersei's side I think she will not disagree with that."

On the fourth day they reached the Kingsroad. They were cold and tired and some of the Unsullied suffered from frostbite and illness. They had no maesters but Missendei told him the Unsullied were well skilled in healing, but not in how to deal with frostbite.

"I will teach them how," Ser Jorah said and he went off with the interpreter to help them.

Tyrion sent Brienne, Pod, and the Hound south to see if the Dothraki were near. They came back late in the day to say they had sighted the towers of Moat Cailin but saw no one on the road.

"We can't stay here too long," Ser Davos told him. "There is no proper shelter and the cold will kill us all soon enough."

"One day we wait," Tyrion said. "Then we march north. "

There was a small copse of woods nearby, not big enough to shelter them all but they needed its wood so many Unsullied were sent to hew the trees. Tents went up, fires lit, and food prepared as it began to get dark out. Tyrion called a meeting of the commanders in his large tent.

"We will stay all day tomorrow and the next morning. If they do not come by then we must march north."

Jorah did not like it. "The Queen's orders were to wait for the Dothraki to unite the army."

The Hound grunted. "Half this army will be dead if we don't get to proper shelter before long."

"They will not die," said Grey Worm. "Unsullied can take anything."

"Aye, maybe so," said Davos. "But already you have frostbite and illness in your ranks. It will only get worse."

"He's right," Missendei said to Grey Worm. "We must march…or die here."

All eyes turned to Jorah and he nodded. "So be it. I will stay behind with a few men to wait for the Dothraki."

But they did not have to wait. On the noon hour the next day, under a cold grey sky, they saw the first outriders of the Dothraki to the south. Before long the main body of horsemen came into view. They were cold and tired, and the horses looked lean and hungry.

Tyrion gave commands to prepared food and fires and fodder for the new arrivals. And then to his utter surprise, Jaime and Bronn came riding from the midst of their ranks.

"Good gods," Tyrion said. "I thought you were dead."

"Dead?" said Jaime in surprise as he came off his horse. "No, not yet."

"Aye," said Bronn. "And we even made some new friends."

Jaime gave him a strange look. "Well, I wouldn't go that far." He looked back at Tyrion. "Why did you think I was dead?"

"We heard you had disappeared from King's Landing."

"He did," said Bronn. "Now bring us someplace warm and give us food and drink and we might just tell you a thing or two."

Into Tyrion's tent they went, where two braziers were burning bright. They warmed themselves and Pod came and helped set up food and drink.

"Stay, Pod," Tyrion commanded. "You are one of us now."

"Thank you, my lord, but my lady will want to know Ser Jaime is here." Tyrion nodded and he left them. Before long they were joined by Jorah and Davos, but Brienne did not come. They sat around Tyrion's small camp table as Bronn and Jaime ate.

"Ser Davos Seaworth," he said to Jaime and Bronn. "We were never properly introduced."

"The Onion Knight," said Jaime. "You once served Stannis."

"Aye, I did. We all seem to be serving a new master now. And what of you?"

All eyes were on Jaime now. He shook his head. "I have nothing to say on that matter. I am a private soldier looking to join a war, nothing more."

"Where's your army?" Jorah asked.

"Not here."

"Your sister made promises," Davos said.

"Apparently you already know she is not going to keep them," Jaime retorted. "Let me see…ah yes, Varys. The Spider is spinning his webs again. Where is he?"

"White Harbor," Tyrion replied. "In charge of our supplies…and doing what he does best."

"Of course," Jaime said. "What else does he know?"

"Nothing we'll tell you," Jorah said.

Jaime smirked. "I see. So shall we be allies or enemies?"

"Allies," Tyrion said at once. "But you have only brought two men."

"Two of best men in the kingdoms," Bronn boasted. Then he looked at Jaime. "Well, one and a half."

Jaime gave him a look of exasperation. "Yes…Ser Bronn here is right. I am not the man I once was with a sword. But I will do my duty to the realm. My sister made a promise and I am here to keep it…some of it at least."

"You would serve better if you had stayed in King's Landing," Jorah said. "To convince her to send her army north."

Jaime shook his head. "Nothing will convince her of that."

"She thinks we can win on our own?" Tyrion asked. Jaime nodded. "And then she will attack us when we are weakened?" After some hesitation again Jaime nodded. Tyrion sensed he wanted to say more, but wouldn't. "I would like to speak to my brother alone, my good men."

After they were gone, Tyrion poured some more wine for him and his brother. "Tell me it all," he said after he sat.

Jaime looked ashen. "She almost killed me."

"Gods. Why?"

"Because I walked away from her. Ser Gregor had his sword out and I could see the command was on the tip of her tongue. I tested her resolve and she did not give the final command…but I could almost feel the shroud of death closing in."

"Yes, I do know what that is like. I had a similar experience when I met her and the Mountain."

"And now we are in the same boat," Jaime said. "Hated by her…our last true relation."

"Her hatred never bothered me any. You seem to be taking it rather badly."

"After all I have done for her…all I sacrificed…the things I have done, Tyrion… you would not believe it."

"Try me."

He looked at Tyrion and then sighed. "You know about us, I presume."

"I am not an idiot."

"Did Father ever know?"

"He knew the rumors. But he did not believe it. Would not believe it."

"She is pregnant again."

"So I surmised. Yours?"

"Yes…but it matters not. If somehow they survive she will turn the child into what she wants, an image of her, to rule when she is gone."

"May the gods save us from that fate. What else are you ready to confess?"

He stared at Tyrion. "I want your word on something first."

"Perhaps."

"I want you to tell your Queen that my head is not for the chopping block…or a dragon's belly."

"We may have a problem there. You did kill her father."

"Has she mentioned this?"

"Not recently. Rather busy at the moment. But she will…when there is time."

"You will do your best to convince her to let me live. Join the Watch, go into exile, anything."

"I promise."

"And the same with the Starks."

"The Starks? Why…oh…bloody hell. You pushed the boy?"

He nodded, and cast his eyes away. "I did."

"He saw you and our sister?"

"Yes. A stupid mistake, one I regret…but it is done and cannot be undone."

"This may prove a problem. The Starks are not a forgiving bunch. And our father did orchestrate the Red Wedding as well. Every house in the North lost someone there."

"We had nothing to do with that."

"Ah, but our name is Lannister."

"Surely your Queen will protect you."

"Me, yes. You, I doubt it. And even if she agrees you may still end up dead. The stories that have been circulating. Someone is taking silent revenge on all the Stark's enemies. Have you heard what happened to the Freys?"

"Yes, all the men massacred with poisoned wine. That was the word when we passed through their lands."

"The word at White Harbor was a girl did it, a dark haired northern girl…who wore a mask that looked like Walder Frey."

Jaime looked at him in disbelief. "Who?"

Tyrion shrugged. "No one knows. But they are all happy for it. One fat lord boasted he would give the girl all the land and silver she wanted if he knew who had avenged the Red Wedding."

Just then the tent flap opened and Brienne came in. "Ser Jaime…Pod said you were here."

He stood and faced her. "Yes…all heading the same way, again…for the same fight."

She smiled slightly. "Good," she said.

They stared at each other and then Tyrion spoke. "Well, you two have much to catch up on. On the morrow, Jaime. We will have plenty of time to talk on the road north."

Jaime looked at him. "It feels good."

"Being on the right side of things?"

"Yes…good night."

They left and Tyrion poured some more wine. Bronn came in just after he had sat again. "So," said Tyrion as Bronn poured himself some wine. "You have a story to tell."

"Aye…but first, I want to know something."

"Of course."

"How much gold does your Queen have?"

Tyrion grinned. "We took much from Meereen, all safely stored on Dragonstone. And once she has won the Iron Throne every enemy castle in the land will be hers to dispose of."

Bronn leaned back in his chair. "If she wins."

"We have dragons."

"Where's the third one?"

"Ah, Cersei did notice that."

"She did."

"It's dead."

Bronn grinned. "I killed a dragon?"

"No, not you. The Night King."

"What?"

"Yes…and now he has reanimated it. It's his. That's what caused the Wall to collapse."

"Bloody hell."

"Indeed."

"So…where are they now? These undead men with blue eyes and their dragon?"

Before Tyrion could answer came an awful shout from outside. And then a dreaded word.

"Dragon!"

They ran out and in the dying light of day they saw every eye looking north. Jaime and Brienne were standing nearby, as were Pod and the Hound.

"What cunt shouted dragon?" Bronn asked in irritation.

"I did," said Pod as he pointed north. He always had good eyes. But Bronn's were better. He stared and then grunted. "Just a bird….shit…with someone on its back."

"Our Queen," said Jorah from behind them. "Coming to escort us to Winterfell."

"Good," said Davos from nearby.

"Well, if your Queen has suddenly turned blue and bald, I'd say you are right," Bronn told them and then they knew.

"RUN!" Jorah shouted. "Off the road!"

Tyrion ran, his stunted legs sinking into deep snow on the west side of the road, and then he was being picked up, strong arms hoisting him high in the air and then onto a strong shoulder.

"Fuck you weigh a ton," the Hound cursed as he carried Tyrion through the snow. Up ahead was a small hill and over it they went and down behind.

"Get your fucking heads down!" Bronn shouted and they all sank into the snow.

"Shouldn't we be fighting that thing?" Brienne yelled.

"Be my guest," Bronn said. "I had enough of dragons for one life. Let's just hope it doesn't see us."

Tyrion stood, he had to see, and despite the others' shouts he climbed to the top of the small hill. And saw…chaos.

Viserion winged in from the north, down the Kingsroad, and straight through their main camps of Unsullied and the newly arrived Dothraki. A long streak of blue…something…poured out of its mouth and engulfed the road and all those to the sides. Down it came through them all, the blue column not ending, seemingly getting larger as it came closer, and the Unsullied and Dothraki were fighting back.

Many Unsullied had dragon glass tipped spears and they threw them up with all their might. Many could not reach the dragon but some did…and Tyrion saw them all bounce off harmlessly. The same occurred with the Dothraki arrows.

One pass it made, one pass, of blue substance engulfing their army, and then it flew south and was gone in hardly the time it took to blink. As the Night King flew by he looked over and saw Tyrion, and it was an image Tyrion would never forget, those blue piercing eyes staring at him, with not a hint of warmth at all. He felt a chill run up his spine and knew Jon Snow was right. This was not an enemy one could ever negotiate with.

The result was devastation. As they walked back to the camps, Tyrion knew they were in serious trouble.

Men were dead, everywhere…but not burned…no…they were frozen…solid.

"Gods," said Jaime. "What foul magic is this?"

"I know not," said Tyrion, stunned as the rest.

They walked as if in a landscape of statues. Unsullied frozen in the act of throwing spears, others with mouths open as if to shout, pointing, running, falling. The Dothraki were the same, but their horses made the tableau more macabre. Frozen animals with riders on their backs, bows and arrows and spears and curved swords in hand, now all dead…or were they?

The Hound stopped by a frozen Unsullied and looked at Tyrion. "Break the ice," he said. "Gently." The Hound took out his dagger and chipped at the ice near the arm of the man…and no sooner had he done so when the arm shattered and then the whole thing collapsed on the snow and the fragments blew away in the wind. What had been flesh was now frozen, and dead.

"Bloody hell," said Davos. "How can we fight this?"

"We can't," said Jaime. "This is worse than fire."

"The fuck it is," retorted the Hound.

"Let us see how badly we are hurt," Jorah said.

It was bad, when the final count came in. Over two thousand dead, mostly Unsullied, with a few hundred Dothraki. The survivors were in shock, even the Unsullied…none more so than Grey Worm.

They found him in tears, standing by a tent that was frozen solid. Half way out of the tent was Missendei, frozen into the scene, as if she was running from the tent when it had happened.

"She was helping the sick," Grey Worm said, his face and voice grim. "The Queen…"

"She will be devastated," Jorah said. He stood close to Grey Worm. "We cannot leave her like this."

Grey Worm nodded and walked up to her, stood close, leaned in and touched her frozen face. He kissed her icy cheek and then spoke soft words none of them could hear.

"They are…were…in love," Tyrion quietly told Jaime by his side.

Suddenly Grey Worm stepped back, pulled out his short sword, and in one swift move he shattered the remains of Missendei and the whole tent and all of its occupants shattered as well and blew away in the wind.

It took them some time but they did the same with the rest. Even many of their supplies were lost, the wagons frozen solid, the food and drink and wood and so on in them now useless.

"We will all be a lot thinner by the time we reach Winterfell," Bronn said from his side as they looked south as the last light of day fled.

"Or dead, if that thing comes back," the Hound added.

"Why didn't it stay and finish us?" asked Brienne.

Tyrion looked over at her and Jaime was by her side. They both knew why.

"It's heading south," said Jaime, his voice hollow. He still loved her, despite all, Tyrion knew.

"Yes," he agreed. "The Night King and his dragon have been let loose. Nowhere is safe."

"What do we do now?" Pod asked.

"Pray," said Jorah.

"Aye," agreed Davos. "And very fucking hard."

"How do we kill it?" Jaime asked.

"With fire, or dragon glass, or Valyrian steel," Tyrion told him. "If we can get close enough."

"That will be the Queen's job," said Jorah. "I am riding north, now. I must get word to her about what has happened."

"Yes," said Tyrion. "Take some supplies and Dothraki with you, if they are rested enough. You speak their language, do you not?"

"Aye," he said and left without another word to organize the men he needed.

"It's time we moved as well," Davos said to him.

"It will be dark soon," said Bronn.

"No matter," Tyrion replied. "We must get to Winterfell and the dragons as soon as possible. If that dragon comes back, we will all be frozen corpses. See to the preparations, if you please."

They went to take care of matters, and soon only Jaime and Tyrion stood on the road looking south.

"He won't come back," Jaime said. "Not yet."

"I know. We were just a chance happening. Two strangers meeting on the road. He has bigger fish to fry south of here."

"He will go for King's Landing."

"He will. And there is nothing we can do about it."


	4. Chapter 4

**Game of Thrones Season 8** **-** **Chapter** **4**

 **Winterfell** **–** **Da** **e** **n** **er** **y** **s**

Dany awoke in her bed soon after the dawn in Winterfell and as she lay there by herself she felt very alone. To rule was her destiny, she knew, but why did it have to be so very lonely? Jon would not come to her, and she understood why…mostly. It was his home, his people, and he feared their reaction if they knew they were lovers. His words had stung her to the quick yesterday, when he had rejected her. Sound reasons, but still a rejection.

A knock came to her door. "Your Grace, are you awake?" came a muffled woman's voice.

"Yes," she said and the door opened. In came Sansa Stark with three young women. One carried a large bucket of hot water, another carried soap and towels and a third carried a tray with food and wine on it.

"Good morning, Your Grace," Sansa said and they all dipped their heads to her.

"Good morning, Lady Stark."

"Sansa…please call me Sansa."

"Yes…Sansa."

She began to bark orders and the serving girls did as she commanded. A small basin was filled with hot water and the rest went into a wooden tub nearby. The food was laid on a table and the soap and towels placed near the basin of water. Food was laid out and wine poured and then the girls dipped their heads and left.

As Dany climbed out of bed Sansa handed her a nearby dressing coat. It was too big for her and Sansa seemed to already know it would be as she spoke on a pressing need. "I noticed you did not have any baggage when you arrived. After breakfast our seamstress and her assistants will come and take measurements and prepare some clothing for you, Your Grace."

"Yes, that would nice."

Sansa dipped her head and prepared to leave but Dany stopped her. "Please stay. Sit."

Sansa sat with her at the small table. "What news?" Dany asked as she began to eat some bread with bacon and cheese.

"All is the same. The Watch and wildlings have begun to build new barracks near the winter town. Patrols have been sent north but there is no word of the enemy, Your Grace."

"And my dragons, have they behaved well?"

"Yes…they have been fed. No one has gone too near them…except Jon."

"Yes, they do seem to have a liking for him."

"Yes."

"Tell me about him."

"What?" she said in surprise, almost blushing. "Ah…what do you want to know?"

"Anything. About his childhood maybe."

"Difficult. My mother never accepted him as a family member."

"I see. And your father, Lord Stark?"

"Of course, he did. Jon was his…his son. Robb and Jon got on best as they were almost the same age."

"Robb is dead I heard.'

"Yes. As are our parents and brother Rickon."

"I am sorry."

"Thank you."

"There is one more thing I wish to know about Jon."

"Yes?"

"His scars. When he was ill on my ship I saw his scars. How did…?"

"In battle," Sansa said quickly. "He's been in many battles."

"Yes…so I've heard." But that did not explain the large scar directly over his heart. In bed one night on the ship she asked him the same question and he gave the same answer. In battle…but she sensed there was more to it. Ser Davos had said he had taken a knife in the heart…but who could survive such a wound?

Sansa seemed reluctant to talk further on this so Dany didn't press her. Jon would tell her the truth in his own time she felt. But there was a sensitive topic she had to discuss with Sansa.

"So, you are the ruler of Winterfell," she began.

"I am. My brother Brandon does not want it."

"I see. But you are married, are you not?"

"Ramsey Bolton is dead."

"Yes…but you were first married to my Hand, Tyrion Lannister, and he was still alive when you married Ramsey Bolton. So that second married was in fact not legal under all the laws of gods and men in Westeros."

"Perhaps. But Lord Tyrion had fled and was under suspicion of murdering his father and King Joffrey…as was I. And to be truthful my marriage to Lord Tyrion was unwanted on both parts."

"So he told me. Do you wish to annul the marriage?"

"I do. When he arrives it is the first thing I will discuss with him."

"But such a marriage would be advantageous to both of you."

"How so, Your Grace?"

"He will be the head of a powerful family and so are you."

"If we win."

"When we win."

"Forgive me, when we win. But I know Cersei better than anyone here. And she will not go quietly or easily. Things will get much worse before they get better."

"Tyrion has said as much. But a joining of your two houses would make a powerful alliance."

"There is also the point that I do not love him or him I. So…I will ask for an annulment."

"Very well, I will not stand in your way."

"Thank you, Your Grace."

"But some day Sansa, I would hope you will get married."

"As do I. And what of you, Your Grace?"

The question took her aback. "Me? I was married. He died."

"I am sorry to hear that."

So was Dany. If Khal Drogo had lived how would her life have been different? Very much different, she realized. A knock came to the door, interrupting her thoughts. "Yes?" Dany said. The door opened and Arya Stark walked in. She dipped her head.

"Your Grace, I am ready to serve."

Sansa and Dany exchanged looks. "Serve?" Dany said in surprise.

"Jon has appointed me your escort while in Winterfell," Arya told them. "I am to stay by your side at all times, Your Grace."

Dany smiled. "Well…I suppose I must agree if Jon thinks it is necessary."

"He does," Arya said.

"When did he ask you this?" Sansa asked her sister.

"This morning," Arya told her. And then she stood by the door as if a sentinel. She was dressed in furs and leathers and on her belt were a sword and an elaborate dagger.

"Do you know how to use them?" Dany asked nodding to her weapons.

"Yes, Your Grace."

"That is a beautiful dagger."

Arya took it out and handed it to Dany hilt first. "Dragonblade I call it," Arya said as Dany examined the hilt. "Made of Valyrian steel with a dragon bone hilt."

"Very fine workmanship. And a very fine name."

Sansa stared at the dagger. "It has a violent history."

"Oh, how so?"

"It caused the wars," Arya said and then for ten minutes she and her sister explained all that had happened…up to the point of Petyr Baelish's execution.

"Yes, I have heard of that," Dany said. "Such a man deserved to die."

She finished her breakfast and Sansa left them. While Dany bathed she knew Arya was just outside the door. She almost always had guards with her in the east and on Dragonstone, but now she felt almost safe…but maybe that was not true. Ser Jorah had said many in the North may hate her for what had gone on in the past. And so she would have her shadow, who by all accounts knew how to handle herself and any enemies.

As she dried herself near the warm hearth Arya's voice came through the door. "The seamstress is here, Your Grace."

Dany hastily pulled on the dressing gown. "She may enter."

Arya came in first followed by an old woman and two young girls. They dipped their heads and got to work, Arya watching them like a hawk the whole time.

"She'll need warm clothes," Arya said. "Not silks or anything fancy."

"Perhaps one dress would be nice," the seamstress said. "In case there is a ball and dancing, Your Grace."

"I…I don't know how to dance." In all her days of being on the run and striving for power not once did she have a dance lesson or even think she must learn to dance.

"Oh…well, then just a beautiful dress for a beautiful Queen."

"If there is time," Arya said in a commanding tone. "There won't be any balls or dancing until the war is done. She needs wool, fur, and leather."

"Of course, my lady," said the seamstress though she did not seem to like being told what to do.

They took her measurements and showed her some materials and patterns and Dany made some choices and an hour later were gone. Dany dressed and then she and Arya went down stairs and made their way to the main gate where the dragons were resting.

Jon was there and when she saw him she could not help but blush. He gave her a smile and dipped his head. "Good morning, Your Grace."

"Good morning, my lord. And how are the…my…children?"

"Seem fine, though many are scared of them." He looked at Arya and back to her. "Do you approve of my choice of escort?"

"I do," Dany said.

"Good."

"But now it is time to fly," Dany said. "I want to take a look to the north."

"I best go with you," Jon said. Then he looked back at Arya again. "Or Arya can."

"Yes…please," Arya said, her tough composure cracking for a brief moment, sounding like a young girl eager to try something new.

Dany smiled. "Very well. Just climb on like I do and don't make any sudden moves. Sit directly behind me and hang onto some spines."

"Shouldn't he have a saddle or at least some ropes?" Arya suggested. "It would be safer."

"Perhaps," Dany. "Maybe we can have something made here."

"I'll look into it," Jon said. "Be safe."

Arya seemed to hold her breath as she got closer and then she touched Drogon's side. "He's hot."

"He is fire."

Around the dragons the snow was gone and the ground exposed, with pools of muddy water all around. They climbed on Drogon and he seemed unconcerned with the second rider. He was getting use to carrying more than her.

She gave the command to fly and Arya let out a small squeal of delight as they did so. "Gods…it's amazing!"

Yes, it truly was.

High over Winterfell they circled, gaining air, and all below them were eyes looking up, men on the battlements, people in the courtyard, more of them outside gathering wood and building barracks. As they watched Jon gave one wave to them and then went off to where the barracks were going up.

Soon Rhaegal joined them, unable to stay still while his brother flew. North they went, up the Kingsroad. It was clear to either side by about a hundred meters but then it was all forest, very thick forest.

The cold did not bother her, as she was dressed warm and had fire below her, but the icy wind in her face was more than a nuisance. She would have to get a scarf perhaps.

For a long while they flew and there was nothing to see…a vast white and green emptiness, with no smoke, no villages, no people.

"Does anyone live down there?" she yelled over the wind.

"Yes…there are villages among the trees, but most of the people are in Winterfell now."

After a while Dany decided to turn back. In a short time they were at Winterfell again and Arya was bursting with excitement as she told Jon about her experience.

And so each morning began like this. Jon still refused to see her at night, and she finally stopped hoping for him to come to her rooms. She received her new clothing on the second day, and after some adjustments they turned out to be quite suitable. Nice cloaks and furs, wools, and leather jerkins, and Jon even gave her a nice dagger, saying it had once belonged to his Aunt Lyanna, and wanted her to have it.

A leather worker took some horse harness and made them so Dany could tie them tight to Drogon's spines on his back. She put two sets there, for her and a passenger, and by holding onto the harness and twisting their hands in them she and a passenger would be more secure.

The barracks were soon up and more were being built and everyone was busy making weapons and building armor. At the forge one morning Arya introduced her to Robert Baratheon's son. "Your Grace, this is my friend Gendry.'

Gendry put down his hammer and dipped his head. "Your Grace."

She had seen him on Dragonstone and was only told he was a smith who had offered his services. Then he went north with Jon and the rest and played a small but vital role in the recovery of the wight. Jon later admitted the truth about the smith.

"Yes, I know who you are," she said to him. "And I know who your father was."

"I didn't, not till a while ago," Gendry said.

"You would be his eldest child?" she asked.

"I don't really know, Your Grace."

Arya sensed what she was getting at. "He's natural born, Your Grace. He can't inherit."

"Well, someone must. Storm's End is the Baratheon family home and part of my future realm. With the three Baratheon brothers dead and all their children begat through wedlock as well, someone must inherit."

They looked at her in shock. "But I'm a bastard," Gendry protested.

"That can be changed. We must look into your family history, and see if there is another relation who has a better claim than you. If not…I would name you lord of Storm's End."

He could only stare in disbelief and then Arya punched his arm and he finally dipped his head and gave his thanks.

"Aye, he would serve well," said Jon when she told him her decision.

"A little rough around the edges," she said. "But he seems loyal enough."

"He is."

But not everyone was. As the days went by the castle seemed to accept her presence, but the Northern lords had not yet bent the knee.

"Give it time," Jon and Sansa both said. Dany felt a growing impatience with this matter. Her instinct was telling her to command them to bend the knee or be punished. But that was not the way to deal with them. They would not be cowed by her, despite the dragons. Jon certainly hadn't. And she did not want to cause any painful wounds of the past to open.

Each morning Dany went aloft and Arya came with her every time. They saw nothing on their patrols to the north and on the fifth day since she had received the raven from Tyrion she grew impatient with not knowing what was happening.

"I must find them," she said to Jon. "We should have had word by now."

"It's the North," he said. "Big and cold. It will take time."

"I understand, but I want to make contact. Now."

"Then go, but be careful."

"I will."

Lord Royce then called to Jon and he went off to speak to him.

As they neared the dragons Arya asked an unusual question. "Can you ride Rhaegal as well?"

"No, at least Lord Tyrion thinks not."

"I don't understand."

"One dragon, one rider, that's what all his books on dragon lore tell him. I am bonded with Drogon, he says, so I cannot bond with Rhaegal. I have read the history of my family as well, and he seems correct."

"Oh. So could someone else ride Rhaegal?"

"Only one with Targaryen blood. But I am the last Targaryen."

"What if you aren't?"

"What do you mean? I am the last."

"What if there was another? Could they fly Rhaegal?"

"Possibly. Who do you mean?"

"I don't know. But what if?"

"Then he or she could…gods…gods."

"What?"

"Jon…the dragons like him. A lot."

"So? He's a Stark." She did not seem flustered at all and said it in a matter of fact manner.

"Yes…he is."

Off they went, her and Arya, and this time they headed south with Rhaegal in tow as usual.

They were silent for a while and then Arya spotted something.

"Castle Cerwyn," Arya said, pointing to the right of the Kingsroad. She could see a small castle on a hill to the right of the Kingsroad and nearby was a frozen band of ice, a river, the White Knife branch she knew. If she followed it she would soon be back in White Harbor.

A short time later Arya shouted. "Riders! On the road!"

Down they came, and Drogon and Rhaegal landed on the road before the riders. She could see right away they were Dothraki…with Ser Jorah. Her instincts told her something was wrong.

"Ser Jorah…what has happened?" she asked as she came to him in the snow before the horses.

The riders got down and the Dothraki called her ' _khalessi_ ' as did Jorah, his face full of pain and sadness.

" _Khalessi_. I have terrible news. We were attacked…by the Night King…and Viserion."

She felt her heart clench tight and her breath get stuck in her throat. "When?"

"A day ago in the late afternoon. He came down on us and let loose his power. We had many losses."

"How many are dead?"

"Over two thousand…I'm sorry, Your Grace…Missendei…"

"No!"

"She is gone."

She stood there in shock and felt the tears come out of her eyes. The Dothraki all looked down, feeling her pain she knew, for they loved Missendei as she did. Ser Jorah would have taken her in his arms she sensed, but hesitated in front of the others.

"Grey Worm," she said, remembering someone who would be torn even more.

"He is well…but not really. As are the rest. Your Grace…it was not fire, but cold which did the damage."

He explained it all, how the frozen could not be saved, how they shattered at the first touch, and Dany's fears grew with the telling. "Where is the army now?"

"Behind us. I was sent ahead to bring word to you."

Arya stood by her all this time and finally Ser Jorah looked at her. "You are a Stark?"

"Arya," she said. "I am sorry for your losses."

"Thank you," Dany managed to say. "This is Ser Jorah Mormont of Bear Island."

"Your cousin Lyanna is at Winterfell with many of your people."

"So Jon Snow told me." He turned back to Dany. "Your Grace, the Night King flew south…we think he is heading to King's Landing. And there is more news. Ser Jaime Lannister is with us."

"Gods," she said. "I am not ready to deal with him yet."

"I am," Arya said, her voice hard. "He pushed my brother from a stone tower and crippled him. He must die."

"He murdered my father," Dany said.

"I know."

"The whole realm knows," Ser Jorah added. "Your Grace, we can deal with all that later. We must push on for Winterfell."

"I will fly with Drogon and Rhaegal to find the army and stay with them. Find shelter and wait for us here." They were in a stretch of the Kingsroad where the forest came close to its edge so there was much shelter and wood for fires.

She and Arya climbed back on Drogon and a short time later found the main body of the army, struggling through the cold up the Kingsroad. Down below she could see people running and weapons being pointing up, but then they realized who it was.

As they landed near the middle of the column to the west of the road she gave Arya a word of caution. "Do not even speak to Jaime Lannister."

"I won't speak to him."

"Or kill him."

Arya sighed. "As you command, Your Grace. But if you don't, I will someday."

"I will deal with him I promise."

"Good. When?"

"Now." Best to get it over with, she decided.

The commanders and their companions came to her but Grey Worm was not among them. They dipped their heads. "Your Grace," said Tyrion. "I am afraid we have terrible news."

"I met Ser Jorah…I know."

"Missendei…" Tyrion began but could not finish.

"He told me. How many more are dead?"

Tyrion gave her the exact figures. Almost a quarter of her Unsullied and a part of her Dothraki were gone. She never expected to win without losses, but this…so many and the enemy had not even been harmed.

"I should have been here," she said, full of regrets.

"It's not your fault, Your Grace," Ser Davos said. "We were caught unawares."

A dark haired man standing near Tyrion gave a short snort. "No one could have stopped that fucker. Not yet anyways."

Dany stared at him and thought she knew who he was. "Do I know you?"

"We've never met," said the man. "Ser Bronn of the Blackwater. We've seen each other, though, but that was across a battlefield."

Now she knew him. Dany grew angry and behind her so did Drogon. "You! You fired the bolt that wounded my dragon!"

"Aye, that was me."

Drogon gave a great roar and all except Dany were afraid. "Lord Tyrion, you had best explain why he is here before my dragon decides to eat him."

"He has switched sides, Your Grace," Tyrion hastened to explain. "He is a sellsword and his black heart is only concerned with money and being on the winning side. And my sister has a tendency to kill those around her who displease her. So now he is on our side."

Dany stared at Bronn. "I don't trust you."

"No, and you are smart not to," said Bronn. "But me and Tyrion been friends for a long time, and you do trust him, aye?"

Dany looked from one to the other. "I do."

"So, no problem," said Bronn. "There is just the matter of my fee."

Dany stared at him again. Most men withered under her looks, especially with two dragons behind her, but not this one. He seemed like he hadn't a care in the world. "When you prove your trustworthiness and prowess in battle, then I will consider it."

He looked to Tyrion. "Talk to her. Explain how all this works." And then he just walked away.

"Your Grace…" Tyrion began.

"We have no time for this," she said.

"He has proven himself in battle many times. And he has a plan for taking down Viserion."

She stared and then finally nodded. "Tell me later. Until we get to Winterfell you are responsible for him. Now, where is your brother?"

Out he stepped, from behind the tall man they called the Hound, standing nearby Brienne of Tarth. "Here…Your Grace."

She stared at him, the man who had killed her father. She had seen him before, at the Dragonpit, but much else had been on her mind and they were attempting to make a truce. And now she knew she had seen him once before she saw him that day in the Dragonpit. She stepped past Tyrion and the others and Arya closely followed her. "I saw you also…charging at me on the Blackwater."

"I did…and almost died for the effort."

"Almost…but not quite. Where is your army?"

"Cersei refuses to send it north."

"She lied."

"Yes. She is very good at that."

"Why are you here?"

"Trying to redeem some of my tarnished honor."

"That will be difficult. You killed my father."

"I did."

"So…that settles that." She looked at the one called the Hound. "Clegane, is it not?"

"Aye, it is…Your Grace."

"Place Ser Jaime Lannister under arrest. Now."

Jaime gave a short grunt, not in surprise, but as if he was expecting this. "I am trying to help you, you understand."

"I don't trust you," Dany said. She looked at the Hound and some Dothraki moving closer. "Now." She then said to the Dothraki in their words, " _Seize this man and bind his hands._ "

The Hound hesitated and then with a growl he pulled out his sword and the Dothraki did the same. "Your weapons," the Hound said to Ser Jaime.

"This is madness," said Brienne, her anger obvious.

"Stay out of it," the Hound told her. "This time you won't win." Her hand was on her sword hilt but she did not draw it.

They took Jaime's weapons from him and someone found a rope and tied his hands behind his back, awkwardly, as one was only a stump now. "Is this necessary? Where would I go?"

"To Winterfell," said Arya. "To pay for your crimes."

"Who are you?" Jaime demanded.

"A sister to a crippled brother."

Jaime stared at her and then looked past her. "Tyrion…this is not needed. I will go quietly."

"Your Grace," Tyrion began. "Where would he escape to?"

"Nowhere if I can help it." She spoke rapidly to the Dothraki and told them to take him to a wagon and keep guard on him always.

When Jaime was gone she looked at Tyrion. "Don't argue about this. He will get a fair hearing. I promise this much."

Tyrion sighed. "Yes, I do hope so."

"How can he?" said Brienne. "You have already judged him guilty."

"He is," Arya said. "He harmed my family and hers. Stay out of it."

"I will not," Brienne shot back. "You don't know him like I do. He has changed."

Dany put her foot down. "Enough. Save your arguments for later. We must move. We will stay with you until you are safely in Winterfell."

As she and Arya walked away Tyrion ran to follow. "Your Grace…"

"Leave it be."

"As you wish."

They walked in silence for a few moments, past the dragons, Dany looking about for the one she needed to see most of all.

"Where is Grey Worm?"

"With his men I suppose. At the front of the column."

Tyrion left them and she and Arya walked rapidly north. She found Grey Worm with his troops at the front of the column, waiting silently to begin the march again. She called his name and he stepped out of the ranks and dipped his head to her. "Your Grace."

"Grey Worm…how are you?" she asked gently in the common tongue of Westeros.

"Ready for battle, Your Grace."

"No, I mean…"

"I am Unsullied. I will be well."

"Missendei…I know she loved you."

She saw a flicker of emotion cross his face. "That is over now. I will join my brothers and her in death soon. May I take many enemies before this happens. I live to serve you."

She could only nod and he dipped his head and rejoined his men.

"Him you can trust," Arya said.

"Always," she agreed. "But so many are gone now."

They walked back to the dragons and the Hound was waiting for them, but a good distance from the dragons. "Girl," he said to Arya. "Still among the living, I see."

"You as well."

"You are not surprised?"

"Jon and Gendry told me you were with them north of the Wall.'

"Aye, I was. The smith lives?"

"Escaped to Castle Black with some others. They are now in Winterfell."

"Good," said the Hound. "That whole trip north was a waste of fucking time and good men."

"It was," Dany could only agree. And it cost them much. "You two are old friends?"

"No," the Hound said and Arya said, "Yes." They looked at each other. The Hound snorted. "A friend would have killed me."

"So maybe we weren't really friends," said Arya. "But if I had killed you, you wouldn't be here now."

"Reckon so. Off to the final battle together, is it?"

"Yes."

"Brienne says you don't need looking after anymore."

"I don't."

"She's my bodyguard," said Dany.

The Hound laughed, a roar coming from deep inside. "The first of the bloody Queensguard?"

"No," Arya said.

"Yes," Dany countered and Arya could only gape at her in surprise. And then Dany looked at the Hound. "I will need more than one."

He shook his head. "You have dragons. Dragons are fire. I hate fucking fire." And he just walked away.

"He does hate fire," said Arya.

"What did all that mean, a friend would have killed me?"

"He was wounded, near death, and he asked me to kill him. I refused."

"And so he lives."

"Yes."

"It seems there is more to the story than that."

"There is." But she said no more.

As they stood near her dragons they watched the army move past, she thought on Missendei and all the time they had been together, and it was hard to believe she would never see her or speak to her again. She didn't even have her body to mourn over and give a proper goodbye. The Night King had robbed her of that.

She saw Ser Jaime in the back of a supply wagon with two Dothraki sitting with him and more on horses around him. And she knew her arresting him was a reaction, her temper up, her anger at the losses, especially of the one who had stood by her all this time, had made her lash out. Eventually she would have had to arrest him…but after she spoke with Tyrion, she had planned. Now she was causing a rift in their ranks, one she had not intended…but it was too late.

Tyrion rode by with Brienne and the rest, and Brienne would not even look at her. Tyrion rode over to them. He started to struggle to get off his horse but she stopped him.

"Stay," she said. She knew how difficult it was for him to mount and dismount.

"Thank you."

There was an awkward silence. "I am sorry about your brother," she finally said, looking up at him.

"So am I."

"But it must be done. How can I rule if I let the man who killed my father go unpunished?"

"You can't. But before you condemn him consider the options."

"What options?"

"Let him prove himself in battle. If he survives and proves worthy, the Watch will need good men to rebuild the Wall and its ranks."

"No," said Arya. "You can't."

Tyrion looked at her. "The decision is the Queen's, not yours, my lady."

"I will consider it," Dany said quickly before Arya could argue. "Now what of the Night King? Has he truly gone to King's Landing?"

"I cannot image where else he would go," Tyrion said and all three looked south, knowing somewhere someone was suffering as they had already.

* * *

 **King's Landing – Theon**

The cove was where Ser Davos had said it was. The secret passages underground were where Lord Varys had said they were, leading to the prison cells. The only worry Theon Greyjoy had was he'd be too late to save his sister.

Ten days wasted, sailing back and forth. Euron had fled King's Landing with his fleet, heading home he said…but it was all a lie. Now Cersei had her and there's was no telling what she would do to Yara.

Theon's lone ship and small crew had sailed for home, hoping to find Euron there and somehow kill him and save Yara. They sailed from Dragonstone and headed for the Narrow Sea, past Massey's Hook and along the shore near the old fortress of Stonedance. Here in the early morning in a narrow tree lined cove they came upon one of Euron's ships, repairing a broken mast. His crew looked at him and without hesitation Theon gave the order to attack. Luckily half the enemy ship's crew was on shore, searching for a proper tree to make a new mast. They caught them unawares with only a dozen men on board. Still it was near run thing, and Theon lost four men before the last three of the crew surrendered. Those on shore cursed and yelled, but archers kept them at bay.

"Where's your captain?" Theon demanded. Behind Theon his men were already dumping the dead overboard, after stripping them of their weapons and valuables.

"Dead," said one of the survivors, now on their knees on the main deck, which was slippery with blood.

Theon held his sword on this one. "Tell me about my sister."

"Fuck you!"

Theon ran him through the throat and the man died coughing blood.

The second man started blabbering. "She's not with your uncle, gone she is, taken to the city."

"Shut up!" the third man said and one of Theon's crew smashed this one in the face and he was soon spitting up teeth.

"Go on," Theon told the talker, an average looking man, older than Theon but not by much. He had a brown beard and eyes. "What's your name?"

"Jared Codd, my lord."

One of his men spat. "Codd. Never trust a Codd."

"I'll trust you," Theon said to the man. "Where did they take my sister?"

"The Queen's men came and took her from Euron, said it was to guarantee he did what he promised."

"What did he promise? To come back?"

"Aye…but he ain't going home."

"Where?"

"Cross the sea to Essos."

"Why?"

"To pick up the Golden Company to serve the Queen."

Theon understood what all this meant. It had all been a sham, Euron's supposedly fleeing. Not gone home. Gone to make Queen Cersei more powerful.

"Where did they put Yara?"

"Don't know. Somewhere in the city."

The cells, it had to be the cells under the Red Keep, where they had once held Ned Stark when he and Robb had gone south to war on the Lannisters. Theon shook these memories away, finding them too painful to recall…as with his other memories, of a darker time.

"We'll never get in there and out alive," one of his men said.

"Aye, we will. I know a way," Theon told him. Luckily he had picked Ser Davos and Varys' brains about the way into the city before they had sailed away. Now he knew where his sister was.

He looked at the men on shore. There were about a dozen more, but now the odds were on Theon's side. He yelled to them. "We are going to find my sister, your true leader. Any man that swears to join us will be treated fairly. The rest can rot on this shore."

"Euron will gut us," one shouted.

"Maybe," Theon said. "If he wins. My Queen has dragons. Does Euron?"

On shore the men talked to each other and then finally the same one shouted. "We'll come."

Theon let them on board and after brief introductions they got to work. Theon's men did not trust the remaining men of Euron's crew not to betray them if they let them sail their own ship, so Theon ordered its food and drink transferred over to his ship and then he burnt the other ship. Some were angry after this decision, for to the iron born a ship was almost like one's own family, but he knew it was right. If he left them on board alone they would sail to Euron. If he sent some of his men on board the rest would have killed them soon enough.

So they sailed back towards Blackwater Bay. A wary bunch they were of each other, and fresh blood spilled was not easily or soon forgotten. But all were of the Iron Islands, and Theon knew what to do. He assembled Euron's men on deck.

"Euron killed my father, your rightful ruler, his own blood, his brother. Our oldest laws say iron born do not spill each other's' blood. Now we are, and Euron is to blame for it all. But we are going to change all that. We are going to get Yara and we are going to take back the Iron Islands."

"Euron has more ships than us," said one of his men. "More men. Soon he will marry that bitch and be King."

"Cersei Lannister will never marry him," Theon answered. "She loves her brother, fucks her brother, and such foulness we cannot be part of, ever. The bitch is just using Euron to get what she wants. The Drowned God will see the Lannisters dead before long. Once the dragon Queen wins in the North, she will come south, to burn King's Landing and Euron's fleet…if they don't surrender. But first we get Yara."

No one said a word to that and he gave the command to head for King's Landing. He thought to mention Yara would be their queen but he knew someone would say something to insult him or his sister. Iron born do not take orders from women…but they would soon have to. He also feared someone would say he should be their leader. Theon did not want to face that conversation with them, for all his mistakes and his shortcoming…and deformities…would have come up.

Five days it took them to backtrack deep into Blackwater Bay, the winds contrary at times. When they sighted the top of the spires of the Red Keep they put ashore on the north coast of the bay in an empty cove. From here they would go by small rowboat, at night, and hopefully take the Lannisters by surprise. Twelve men he took, half his, half Euron's, and the rest stayed and manned the ship. Jared Codd was one who came with him. In two boats they rowed west along the shore. They wore armor and had shields, spears, swords, and axes, with two bowmen as well.

Luckily the Lannister queen kept her city well lit, and the moon was near full as well, with little cloud cover. The cove Davos mentioned they found, a small fire on shore showing them the way. Two gold cloaks half asleep by the small fire only spotted them as the rowboats crunched on shore. They barely had time to draw their swords before they were cut down by well-placed arrows.

He left two men with the boats and the rest followed him. Along the outer walls they went, over rocky ground, towards the Iron Gate and the road to Rosby. It took some time, and his men grew frustrated but Theon finally found the secret passage where Lord Varys said it would be, close to the Iron Gate, near some rocks and a lone tree. Quietly they opened the door and squeezed inside.

A whale oil lantern and two torches they lit. The tunnel was narrow but well built.

"Where from here?" someone asked.

Theon took out a parchment with a map Varys had given him and examined it in the light. "Along this passage, and then left to these stairs…and then up. More tunnels, and then the black cells. We see anyone, try to take them captive, see if they talk. They don't…gut them."

They were in a dimly lit corridor, near to where the black cells were supposed to be when they met the first person, a fat guard, smelling of sour wine and sweat. He saw the lights and shouted. "That you Wallis? About time. I'm dying for a piss. Eh, who's that with you?"

Theon had his sword to his throat before the man could shout. "Where's my sister?"

"Who?" the gaoler stammered as another of Theon's men took away his short sword.

"Yara Greyjoy. Is she in one of these cells?"

"No one with that name down here. What she look like?"

"Me," Theon told him. "A woman, a Greyjoy of the Iron Islands."

"She ain't here. Don't know where."

"Then what use are you," said Jared Codd, and he raised his sword to kill him.

"Wait!" the gaoler cried. "Longwaters will know. He's in charge."

"Where is he?" Theon demanded.

"Next level up is his sleeping cell. He'd be in there by now."

"Show us. One peep of warning and you die."

"Aye, my lord. Follow me."

Down the corridor they went, past some cells and it was so very dark. The lights they carried attracted prisoners to barred door windows, like moths to a flame. People saw them and began to cry out.

"Save me!"

"Set me free! Mercy!"

"The light! Leave the light!"

Theon's men told them to be quiet or they would be killed and the cries subsided. But one man was bold.

"I know the city," he said from behind his barred window.

Theon stopped, looked at the dim face behind the bars. "Why you here?"

"He's a thief," said the gaoler.

"A thief, who knows all the ways up above," the man said. "Named Hagan, best thief in King's Landing.'

Codd laughed. "How's the best thief get himself caught, eh?"

"I was betrayed by a fellow thief, a rival…soon a dead man. Set me free and I'll take you wherever you need to go."

Theon nodded to the gaoler, who still had his heavy keys. "He's not to be trusted, my lord."

"Open the door."

The door was opened and Hagan stepped out. He was thin and wiry, with a short beard and mustache, black haired, or at least it looked so in the dim light. His clothes looked fresh and he didn't stink so badly. Maybe here only a few days.

"Where to…my lord?" he asked.

"Follow us for now," Theon told him.

Up they went to the next level after a short walk down a corridor. This one was well lit, as were the stairs up to the level above. There were no other guards, no people and then they rounded a corner…and a man walked almost smack into them.

"Who…gods!"

He died with steel in his belly and his blood on the stone floor.

"Wallis," said the gaoler. "My relief."

"Be happy he was late," Theon told him. "Or you might be dead on the floor now and him leading us."

"You'll kill me anyways," the gaoler said, sounding glum.

"No," Theon told him. "We'll lock you up. But any shouting and we will kill you."

"Thank you, my lord. Longwaters is just over here."

The head gaoler Longwaters was asleep and mightily bewildered when they woke him up and dragged him out of his sleeping cell. But the armed men and weapons quickly brought him to his senses. He was tall and thin with a heavy black beard showing grey, wearing only a linen sleeping shift.

"Krakens," he said when he saw the Greyjoy sigil embossed on their shields and armor. He knew what they wanted after Theon told him his name. "She's not here. Your uncle took her."

Theon gave Codd a cold glare. One of his men grunted. "Told you not to trust him."

"Lies!" Codd said. "I saw them take her from Euron's ship. I swear!"

Theon turned back to Longwaters. "If I start pulling out your fingernails will that get the truth from you?"

"You may as well kill me now. Queen Cersei will make it much worse once she finds out I told you."

"You can always flee the city," Theon said. "Same way we came in. And remember, the true Queen will be here someday and she has dragons."

Longwaters hesitated and then nodded. "The Spiral Tower, just outside Maegar's Holdfast." he said. "The very top floor."

"If she's not there, we'll hang your guts around your neck." He then looked at Hagan.

"Aye, I know it," said the thief. "But we'll have to cross a courtyard and get past a barracks and two gates to get to it from here."

"No, we won't," Theon said and he took out his map.

"Gods," said the thief. "I'd give a hundred gold dragons for this map."

"It's yours if we find my sister," Theon told him.

Hagan grinned. "Looks like this is the way," he said as a dirty finger ran along the map. "Right under it, and then up. Might be guards inside though."

Theon looked at Longwaters. "Two guards outside her door."

"Right," said Theon. "Put them in the sleeping cell." The gaoler and Longwaters were shut inside. Theon selected two men to guard them. "If we are not back in an hour, kill them and get out the way we came."

Four men he had less now, two by the boats, and two by the cells. Nine iron born and one thief crept through the tunnels and up into the city. No more people did they meet, and the tunnels were dusty and cold, with cobwebs here and there, as if no one had walked them in ages. Finally they came under the Spiral Tower, or at least they thought so by the map. But there were no stairs.

"Should be here," said Hagan. He looked at the map and then around. "Maybe…yes. The light."

The lantern as given to him and he moved to the left wall…and the light disappeared and then came back. "A turn, my lord," Hagan said. It had been cleverly designed so it looked all like one wall in the dim light. Around the turn was an iron ladder, going up.

Theon went first, and the climb was long, and a hundred and a half or more ladder rungs and twenty minutes by his reckoning he found a trap door. He pushed and it refused to yield. Another try and it still would not budge. Men were below him, getting impatient, and if he failed to open it things would not go well. He lifted his right shoulder and put all his weight into as he braced his legs on the iron rungs below. One more heave and…it opened…and Theon emerged into…

… chaos.

Theon climbed up, and the first thing he noticed were the bells, bells ringing, so loud it seemed every sept in the city must be ringing its bells. And then there were the screams. He was in a small, dusty, empty room with one small window and after he helped the first man up he looked out the window.

"Bloody hell," was all he could say.

Outside the city was in turmoil, people shouting, screaming, running…from something, high in the sky it flew and then down…and from it came a great gout of blue flame…or was it, for there were no fires or smoke to be seen. And then Theon knew. The great battle for King's Landing had already begun

"It's a dragon!" he shouted and his men pushed in to look out the window.

"Do dragons breathe blue fire?" Codd asked.

"No," said Theon, now uncertain. "Not the ones the Queen has."

"Fuck," said Hagan. "I don't see any flames anywhere. No smoke, no fire."

Theon was now even more unsure what was happening. But he was here for his sister and it was time to move.

"Let's find Yara."

Out they went, cautious, the lanterns and torches left behind in the small room. Right outside the door was a spiral staircase and up they went, three floors, four, five, and saw no one, till they reached the top. Theon peeked over the last step on the top stairs.

The stair landing was lit by torches in wall brackets. Two men were on the door, looking very worried. The noise of the bells was so loud they never heard the ironmen coming.

"I say we bugger off!" one man said.

"We do and the Queen will hang us!" said the other.

"Open the fucking door!" came a muffled voice from behind it and then a pounding noise and Theon knew.

"What is dead may never die!" he shouted and he and his men charged. The two guards looked like they near died of fright and then they did die, both with their swords still in their scabbards, unbloodied.

Hagan found a key on one of them and opened the door.

"Theon," Yara said, staring at him in surprise, shocked that he would come to save her it seemed.

"Aye," he said, suddenly feeling ashamed in front of his sister. And then he remembered who he was. "I've come for you Yara."

She gave him half a grin. "I see you have found your balls at last."

Theon grinned and his men laughed. "Time to go," Yara commanded as someone handed her a sword.

As they went down stairs Theon talked, telling her all he knew.

"Never trust Euron," she said. "I knew he was up to no good."

"There's a dragon out there," Theon said. "The Queen's?"

"I don't think so," Yara told him. She stopped. "I got a good look at the rider from my windows. It's not her…it's a White Walker I think, maybe even the Night King."

"How did he get a dragon?"

"I don't know."

They finally reached the small room and the ladder going down. Yara hesitated. "We kill that bitch now we can end this war," she said.

"We'll never get out alive," Theon told her. "Not with Ser Gregor guarding her night and day."

Yara nodded. "Let's go."

Down they went and at the bottom Hagan stopped. "Far as I go," he said. "You made a promise, my lord."

"You want to stay here?" Theon asked in surprise.

"It is home. And after the dragon gets done there will be plenty of opportunities for the likes of me."

"Aye," said Theon and he handed over Varys' map and one of their torches. "Good luck."

"Same to you, my lord."

Back the way they came they went, Theon remembering how to go,…but a surprise was waiting for them. When they reached Longwaters' sleeping cell the two men Theon had left behind were dead, as was another man, a gaoler it looked like, not the one from before, and the cell was empty. No sooner had they come on this scene then they were attacked from behind.

"Kill them all but spare the woman!" someone shouted, maybe Longwaters.

Ten men charged down the corridor, gaolers and at least four gold cloaks, with spears and swords. The first to die was Jared Codd, a thrown spear through his throat. The second was the fat gaoler, as Yara skewered him. You should have stayed out of it, Theon thought as he saw the man scream and hold his guts as he fell to the stone floor. After that the iron born did all the killing. Gaolers and gold cloaks were not meant for this kind of fight. Five more died and the rest fled but Theon caught Longwaters, still in his sleeping shift but with sword in hand. He was no swordsman and Theon's steel found his gut.

"You should have stayed in bed," Theon said as Longwaters was dying at his feet.

Yara bent over Longwaters. "Where are the Dornish women? The prisoners."

"Dead," Longwaters said and then he was as well.

Theon managed by memory to find the way back to the secret door and all breathed better when they were outside. The boats waited for them. As they rowed away they could see the city above, and hear the shouts and screams as the dragon flew over it and breathed death.

Yara and Theon sat side by side, rowing with the rest. "Thank you," she said and Theon felt good, hearing that from her.

"Sorry I ran," he said.

"Swam, you mean," she replied.

"Aye."

"I hated you in that moment," she said quietly. "But you did what was right in the end."

"Where to now?" Theon asked.

"The Queen's fleet is in White Harbor you said?"

"It is."

"Then we need it and all the ships of the North."

"We attack Euron."

"Aye, and sink his ships and the Golden Company before they ever set foot on shore in Westeros. That will give the bitch Queen a nice surprise…if she still lives."

* * *

 **King's Landing – Cersei**

The dawn found the city in turmoil. The sun rose for once on a clear day, the first in over a week, and its rays found the ice and all was a glitter. But it was not something to admire, for trapped in the ice were the dead, how many no one knew, but many, so very many. And the rest were fleeing.

The exodus began in the night, soon after the dragon left, and the loses among her guards and gold cloaks meant there were too few to hold them back. Out the few undamaged gates they went, carrying or hauling what they could, and south they went, all south, to where they hoped they could be safe.

Her guards stayed, as did her army, those that survived. And Qyburn was here, as always and Ser Gregor.

Maegar's Holdfast with the royal apartments was frozen solid, and she had fled in the night with her guards, making her way to the Tower of the Hand, hiding in its lowest levels until the danger had passed. Now she stood on a balcony looking out at her glittering city, and she knew all was lost.

In her rooms were servants, preparing her bed, bringing in clothing, leaving food…and then they left, with Ser Gregor standing by the door. Qyburn stood behind her, waiting, and at last she turned. "So now we know where the third dragon went."

"It seems so, Your Grace."

"How many dead?" she asked.

"Uncertain…many."

"There were no fires?"

"None, Your Grace. All are frozen and when we try to free them from the ice it shatters."

"What of the gates, the buildings?"

"They have begun to thaw some, in the sun, and I fear to try to hasten the process in case it shatters as well."

"How can they shatter? It is stone and brick and steel."

"Cold can affect all materials, Your Grace. Men have reported frozen weapons shattering, and wood as well. Any food that was frozen shatters as well. We have lost much."

"And the survivors?"

"Fleeing, panicking. We haven't the men to stop them."

"They will die out there in the cold."

"Yes, but they fear of a certain death inside."

Just then came a soldier to the door and Ser Gregor let him in. The man went to one knee and Cersei told him to rise.

"Report," she said.

"There was an attack in the cells during the night, Your Grace. By all accounts iron born did it."

"Yara Greyjoy?" Qyburn asked.

"Gone, my lord, her guards dead. Over a dozen dead in all."

"How did they get in?" Cersei demanded.

"We don't know, Your Grace. We are still investigating."

She told him to go and when he was gone Cersei looked at Qyburn. "So, another one of your plans comes to nothing."

"It seems so. It must have been her brother," Qyburn said. "She knows about Euron."

"It matters not. He will be back soon. And the dragon whore does not have the ships or the men to stand against him."

"Yes, Your Grace."

A week later and Euron was not back and the city was still in turmoil. The sun had melted some of the ice and more was falling off on its own, but that would not bring back the dead or those fleeing. Qyburn estimated half the population was dead or gone and most of those remaining were the poorest of the poor, common folk with no money to flee and nowhere south to go. Those with wealth and friends south were all gone it seemed. She also had many losses among her men and the gold cloaks. She had less than ten thousand soldiers left, and many supplies had been lost. If she could not feed them, they would leave her as well.

She stayed in the Tower of the Hand, hidden away from the world, and hoping each day for news from the east and south. Word they sent to the Iron Bank, on a fast ship, requesting more loans and the gathering of food to be shipped to the city. Qyburn also sent word to Dorne's new leader Lord Anders Yronwood, requesting an alliance. Qyburn also spent his time getting reports, and the news was not good. The remaining people feared the dragon's return, and many were saying the doom was on them, and it was all Cersei's fault. Somehow word got out of her double dealing with the dragon whore and the rumor was Daenerys Targaryen was the one who sent the dragon to punish them for Cersei's lies.

"An alliance with Daenerys…" Qyburn began one morning but she stopped him cold with a stare.

"I said never mention that again."

"Yes, Your Grace."

She walked to the balcony again and as she stood there she saw a raven flying across the sky toward the rookery in the Tower of the Hand. "Raven," she said and when Qyburn came back from retrieving the message his face looked dire.

"From Winterfell," he said.

"What does the whore want now?"

"Ser Jaime…he wrote it," Qyburn said. "He is their prisoner."

She quickly snatched the letter from his hand and read it.

" _Cersei, I am in Winterfell, a prisoner of Daenerys Targaryen. I must face up to all my crimes. But first I will be given a chance to prove myself in battle, and then take the black if I live. We were attacked on the Kingsroad coming north by the Night King. He has a dragon now, Viserion, one of hers. It died north and was reanimated. Its power is terrible. We must forge an alliance. Send all our men north or we will all surely perish."_

He didn't even say he loved her, and probably did not anymore. She crumpled the scroll up in her hand. Qyburn waited and then spoke. "Do you have an answer, Your Grace?"

"My brother is a traitor. He has sided with them."

"It seems he has sided with the side that is…"

"Our enemies!"

"Yes, Your Grace."

She brooded on it for a moment and then decided. "I will reply. Fetch parchment and ink. It is time I told the truth.'

"What truth, Your Grace?"

"It's time the Starks knew what happened that day. Its time they knew Jaime for the monster he truly is."

* * *

 **Winterfell – Jaime**

The girl kept giving him dirty looks every time she saw him. Three days it took to reach Winterfell and she came to visit him in the morning and at night when they made camp. The rest of the day she was with Daenerys on her dragon or following behind her.

"What are you to her?" Jaime asked on the first morning.

"Her escort," Arya Stark said. And then she took out the dagger. Jaime was standing by the wagon with his Dothraki guards sitting around a nearby fire preparing breakfast. "Do you know this dagger?"

"No. Why should I?"

"A man tried to kill my brother Bran with it. Tried to cut his throat in his sleep. If my mother and his direwolf hadn't been there Bran would have died."

Now Jaime knew what the dagger was. "Your mother accused Tyrion of giving the man the dagger."

"Yes, because Petyr Baelish told her so. But it was a lie."

"I know. Tyrion had nothing to do with all that."

"Because you did, and your sister."

"We were long gone from Winterfell when that happened."

"But you pushed him from the tower, didn't you?"

Jaime snorted. "If you don't mind I think I will wait for a proper trial before I answer any more questions. And by the way, it's Baelish who you should be questioning about all this. He told the lies."

"I would question him but he's dead."

That was a surprise. "How?"

"I cut his throat with this," she said and then she put the dagger back in its sheath and walked away. This was not the same little girl he remembered from King's Landing.

She was not his only visitor. Brianne came every day and rode alongside the wagon and promised him he would be treated fairly.

"If you think that will happen you are mistaken," Jaime told her. "They have already condemned me." And she had no answer to that.

Tyrion said the same. "I have almost convinced her to let you take the black."

"There is no Wall anymore."

"It's still there. Needs a few repairs, but still there."

"Tyrion…how can we defeat that thing?"

"Bronn has a plan."

"Do tell."

"Big fucking dragon glass tipped bolts," Bronn told him later. "We build three or four of those launchers and put them on the highest towers of Winterfell. Supposed to be a hundred feet high your brother says. That will take the fucker down."

"If it gets close enough," Jaime replied. "If we get lucky, if dragon glass can harm it."

"Aye, lots of ifs. But at least it's a plan."

A plan, for the future, but Jaime had none. He was guilty of it all, and an axe awaited him. The Wall was starting to look good in comparison. If they won.

They finally reached the castle and all rejoiced. But it was not a city, not even big as far as castles went. Three or four of them could fit inside Harrenhal. And it was crowded with people and animals already.

The Queen landed her dragons by the main gates. Outside men were building barracks and tents were everywhere. Jon Snow was there shouting commands, and soon the Unsullied and Dothraki were going into barracks or putting up their tents. Chopped up wood was outside the castle in huge piles and that was good, for fires they needed. But Jaime needn't worry about keeping warm. Inside he went, on his feet, taken for a walk through the main gate and castle, with Arya Stark leading him and the Hound and three Dothraki behind.

"To think we used to be brothers in arms," Jaime said to the Hound.

"Long time ago," the Hound said. "I hated your son, you know."

"He was not…never mind."

The people stared at him, hatred in all their eyes, for they knew who he was and what he had done.

Sansa Stark and Daenerys awaited them in the main courtyard. Tyrion stood nearby as well. Jaime had not seen Sansa since Joffrey's death. She looked older, and somehow sterner. He knew she was ruler of Winterfell now.

"Your Grace, Lady Stark," Arya said. "I bring the prisoner Ser Jaime Lannister the Kingslayer for your justice."

There it was 'the Kingslayer' a name that pronounced him guilty without even a trial.

"Thank you, Arya," Sansa said and then she looked at Jaime. "We will have a trial soon enough. But the Queen tells me you are to be given a chance to prove yourself in battle."

Jaime glanced over at Tyrion who gave a short dip of his head. "Very well," Jaime said. "I think I would fight better with my hands untied. Sorry, hand."

Daenerys shook her head. "Not yet. A cell awaits you, ser. Each day you will train and man the walls, under escort. At night you go back in your cell. And I wouldn't try to escape. Every man here wants to kill you. There is nothing but snow and death out there."

"I am not a fool," Jaime said. He was led away by Arya and the Hound and as he left and looked back and saw Tyrion and Sansa talking.

"Your sister and her first husband reunited."

"Not a marriage she wanted," Arya said.

"No, nor did he."

"She will annul it."

"Good. Let us finish all business before death comes for us all."

They took him to a room in a tower, and as far as prisons go it was nice, clean, and dry with a proper bed and candles and a hearth. On a small table was a copy of the _Seven Pointed Star_.

"I am not a religious man."

"This was once the septon's room," she told him. "But the ironmen killed him."

They untied his hand and stump and that felt good as he rubbed his left wrist on his right arm to get the blood flowing properly.

"Food and fire will be brought," Arya said. "Do anything stupid and I'll kill you."

The Hound laughed. "I'd watch it round this one, ser. She likes killing."

"I'll remember it," Jaime replied. He picked up the book, one he had not touched since he took his oath as a Kingsguard man, so very long ago.

"If I were you I would read it," said Arya. "You need all the help you can get."

"We all do," Jaime said and they left him.

An hour later food and water and fire were brought to him. He cleaned up a bit and ate and then Jon Snow came to see him.

"Lord Snow," Jaime said. "Or is it King Jon now?"

"Lord Snow will do," he said. All dressed in furs and leathers he was, with a dark brooding look all Starks had. He was a man now, not the boy Jaime had seen in Winterfell all those years ago.

"What can I do for you Lord Snow?"

"I remember your words when I left Winterfell. How you mocked me for joining the Night's Watch."

"Yes, well, seems I was wrong about that. I may be there myself someday."

"Maybe. Come. I want you to meet someone."

"Who?'

"My brother."

"Your idea?"

"His. Come."

Outside were two guards on his door but they stayed put. Downstairs Arya and the Hound waited and all three escorted him to the godswood and there he met the boy, Brandon Stark, and Jaime suddenly found himself full of guilt and shame. The stories they told of this boy on the march here, what Brienne and Davos said of his powers now, and Jaime knew he knew the truth.

He was taller, by much, but still a cripple, sitting in a wooden chair with wheels by the heart tree.

"Hello," he said, in a calm and soft voice. The Hound, Arya, and Snow stood a bit away but seemed ready to pounce if he did anything stupid.

"Hello," was all he could manage to say.

"Welcome to Winterfell."

Jaime felt his gut clench and something came over him. "I'm sorry," he said in a bare whisper.

"I understand," Bran replied, quiet as well. "I know why you did it. You love her."

"I do."

"And you were afraid of being discovered."

"I was…and all that matters for nothing now."

"No…it does matter. If you had not done what you had done, I would not be what I am now."

"And what is that?"

"The three-eyed raven."

"I don't understand."

"I can see, the past, everything. I saw you slay Aerys. I saw you kneel before him and take your vows. I saw your first kiss with Cersei, I saw…"

"Stop, please," he almost begged. "All that is over, done with. I am not that man anymore. I am…I am trying to do what is right."

"I know. So I will do something for you."

"What?"

"I will stay silent."

"About what I did?"

"Yes."

"I am ready to confess."

"If you do they will kill you."

"They promised me the black."

He shook his head. "I fear you will never leave Winterfell alive."

"You fear…or you know?"

"I can't see the future."

"Well, then I will take my chances. I must confess."

"As you wish, but I will say nothing."

"So be it."

Bran said nothing and so Jaime walked away back to the others, now feeling even guiltier. He had damaged the boy for life and he was actually forgiving him.

"So…are you ready to confess?" Arya asked.

"I still believe I will have a trial," Jaime said, feeling too worn out to talk about it anymore today.

As they walked back to the castle, Jon Snow had one more request. "Write to your sister. Tell her what happened, the power we face. Tell her we need her army."

"If the Night King hit King's Landing she may be dead already. Or her army is."

"Aye, maybe so. But we must try to convince her."

Jaime nodded. "It won't do any good. She hates you and will hate me for siding with you."

But he wrote the letter anyway and off it went on the wings of a raven.

He tried to sleep but sleep would not come and finally he read that damn book. Then a knock came to the door.

"Yes?"

"Lady to see you," a guard said. Damn, not Arya again, or maybe her sister, wanting more confessions.

"I'm tired."

"Jaime?" came a muffled woman's voice.

It was Brienne. "Let her in."

The door was unlocked and she came in, and he stood. For once she was not in armor or carrying her sword. "I'd offer you a chair or a drink but I am lacking both," he said.

"I just came to say…to say I think you are being treated unfairly…and I will speak on your behalf."

"So you told me on the way here."

"Yes…well, I said it again and so…so I will go."

"Wait."

"Yes?"

"Why do you care what happens to me?"

She had that fierce glow on her face and her cheeks turned red. "You don't know, do you? Your sister knew, the moment she saw me and you…but you still don't know."

"Know what?"

"I love you, Ser Jaime," she said in a rush.

Gods. "Oh."

It was a mistake and her face crumpled and she turned to the door. He was faster and beat her to it and held it shut with his good left hand.

"Let me go," she whispered in a fierce tone.

"I'm sorry. You…you surprised me, that's all I meant."

She stepped back and looked at him. "I'm sorry.'

"Why?"

"For being so forward. I shouldn't have said it."

"Why did you?"

"Because it is true…and soon we may all be dead."

"True enough. Sit."

"Where?"

"The bed."

She did so, and he sat beside her, an uncomfortable awkwardness between them. "I still love Cersei," he said.

"I know."

"I have never been with another woman beside her."

"Never?"

"Never."

"I've never been with a man…ever."

He had a thousand clever answers to that but kept silent. She pressed on. "I'll be good to you."

"I know you would."

"But…"

"There is no but…except I need time."

"I understand."

She stood and so did he. Quickly she leaned forward and kissed him, once, quick, on the lips and then she was gone. The kiss stayed on his lips for a long time, and it was a kiss of longing and hope and her smell stayed with him and the softness of her lips, and Jaime Lannister began to believe there might be a future for him after all…if he survived what was to come.


	5. Chapter 5

**Game of Thrones Season 8 - Chapter 5**

 **White Harbor – Melisandre**

The city of stone on the White Knife firth's east bank was small as far as cities went, and held no special place of terror in any tales, the people being peaceful and hardworking, but it was a place she feared to tread. Death awaited her in the North, a death she had foreseen years ago, and could not avoid, but as the time came closer she began to fear the great beyond. Beric Dondarrion and Jon Snow had both died and had been reborn and both told the same tale. The great beyond was a land of nothingness, they claimed, and she wondered if the nothingness was only temporary or forever.

Melisandre's ship was one of four, making its way towards the docks of the inner harbor on a cold cloudy day. The harbor was very full, with dozens of ships, including a Greyjoy ship. Most of the rest sported either the three headed dragon of the Targaryens or the merman of the Manderly rulers of White Harbor.

"This is a cold land," said Barquo from her side in High Valyrian as he looked at the stone made city.

"The Lord will keep us warm," she replied. He was dressed in leather and chain mail, with a helm on his head, a spear in his hand, and a short sword at his side. His brown face was tattooed in fiery red and orange flames, as were all of the men of the Fiery Hand. A thousand, no more, no less, was their number, but soon that would change. Four ships it took to take eight hundred of them to Westeros, and it had been a struggle to pry them loose from High Priest Bennaro's fingers.

Melisandre had arrived in Volantis and had immediately gone to the Temple of the Lord of Light. She was greeted warmly at first but then had to wait two days for an audience with Bennaro. Into his private chambers high in the central tower she was admitted by two of the Fiery Hand who guarded the outer doors.

Bennaro was tall and thin and bald, his face covered in flame tattoos. He was washing his hands in water from a basin on a small table near his larger table which was laid out with food and drink.

"Forgive me," he said in High Valyrian without turning. "I know you have been waiting long." He picked up a towel to dry his hands and turned to her. "I have been asking our Lord what to do and finally he gave me an answer. Come, sit."

A large hearth was nearby, filled with a roaring fire despite the heat of the day. Such a fire on such a day would have made most people of Westeros uncomfortable, but she was of the fire and had no fear or discomfort from it. They sat and ate and drank.

"What has our Lord told you?" she asked after some small talk.

"To listen to you. And consider any proposals…no matter how outlandish. But first, tell me of Westeros."

So she talked and long he questioned her on what went on in Westeros and what would happen in the future.

"Your powers seem to have grown," he said. "And also wane. You brought Jon Snow back from the other side, but the girl died for no purpose and now this act has hindered your progress."

"A mistake," she admitted. "I thought the blood of a king would give us the Lord's favor. I was wrong."

"Yes, once before you used the blood of a king, from this blacksmith. And it seemed to be a success. Maybe because his blood was pure. The girl suffered an illness in childhood, did she not?'

"Greyscale, but she survived."

"Still…all is uncertain. But this act has led to anger and division."

"It has. I am banished from the North. I will be killed if I return."

"You have long said your death awaits you in the North of Westeros. Maybe this is what you foresaw."

"Maybe…but I don't believe I am to die yet. I have to go back. I have to convince Jon Snow that he is the Prince reborn."

"Are you certain? Once you said one of the Baratheon brothers was Azor Ahai."

"A mistake. They had the blood of the Targaryens through their grandmother. Stannis lived on Dragonstone amid smoke and fire of the volcano and the salt of the oceans. The prophecies seemed true."

"Stannis died."

"As did Renly and Robert. None was the Prince."

"Now you think Jon Snow is."

"He must be. I have seen him in the flames wielding a fiery sword outside of Winterfell in a great battle."

"But he is not of the Targaryens."

"Not that we know of. Maybe a distant relation, for no one knows who his mother is. Eddard Stark took that secret to the grave. So it is uncertain. But all else is not. He is the hero the west has been waiting for."

"What of Daenerys Targaryen?"

"A possibility. The prophecies do not say if it is a man or woman, as was clearly pointed out to me when I had an audience with Daenerys on Dragonstone."

"So, there are two choices. But which one is correct?"

"The sword will know."

He paused and stared at her over his fingertips steepled in front of his face. "The sword is sacred."

"It is of no use lying unwielded. Only the true Prince, or Princess, can bring forth its power."

"None has seen such power in time uncounted."

"In the west they say eight thousand years."

He gave a dismissive shrug. "Perhaps. Yet the prophecy is but a thousand years old. Time is a strange thing, and how we see it and feel it differs from one to another. The sword has been here for a long time, true, but no one knows how long…or even if it is the true Lightbringer."

"There is only one way to find out. Give me the sword, give me the men I need."

"What men?" he asked, suspicion in his tone.

"The Fiery Hand."

"Impossible."

"They are needed in the North. Here they are wasting their power. As are my fellow priest and priestesses."

"You would strip our temple of all its power?"

"If we do not stop what is coming it will not end in Westeros. It will come here as well."

"A sound argument. But our Fiery Hand has always guarded this temple."

"From what enemies? None in Volantis would dare raise a hand to you or this temple. The city would explode in rebellion if the triarchs dared to even think it."

"Oh, think it they do," Bennaro said. "When we began to preach of Daenerys and her power, all those who own slaves feared rebellion. Five times their number the slaves are counted. Freedom came to Meereen. They want it here as well."

"Their freedom was won with blood and fire. And Daenerys is gone and she will not come back."

"No…and so rebellion fever has waned."

"Good," she replied. "What happened in Meereen and Yunkai and Astapor should be a lesson. Rebellion is costly."

"You were once a salve," he said. "As was I. Still in our hearts we remember what it was like. Volantis may rise yet."

"We do, and I understand the desire, but I am no fool. The people need a leader to rise. Daenerys is gone. If not you, then who?"

"No one," he admitted. "And I will not be the first to spill blood or cause it to be spilled."

"Wise. If so, then you are safe here. Give me the men, some at least. In the west they will do much good. Here they are wasted."

"And the sword as well?"

"It is time, Bennaro, time for the Prince or Princess to claim his or her place. The battle with the Great Other's representatives is about to begin. I fear I already may be too late."

And so he had agreed, reluctantly, to give her the sword and eight hundred of his precious guards. The sword was held in a high tower, laid on a soft cloth on a pedestal, with four guards around it day and night as long as anyone could remember.

She had first seen Lightbringer when she was a girl. She was always a slave, with no memory of another life, first making wicker baskets for a terrible drunken man. He beat the slaves when the whim took him, which was often. With the older girls more was none, but she was too young yet to attract his eye for that. Then she was sold, to pay for his daily wine she guessed, to a merchant house of cloth makers who had a factory in the back streets of Asshai, and life got better for a time. After that she was sold to the red priests. She cried when she left, for she had friends, and food, and comfort, and the merchants were good people. But she also saw things, in the fires. She used to play a game with her friends, when they cooked their food at night, telling them what she saw…and then the things began to come true. The merchants feared the disruption she caused among the slaves, and sold her for a high price when the red priests heard of her talent.

They taught her High Valyrian, enough to begin, and sent her on a rough sea voyage to Volantis, to the temple. And here she stayed for years, studying, learning, using her talents, and then she returned to Asshai to learn even more dark arts, and the secret of powders, to make flames dance and men fall under a woman's spell, to survive poisons. And she learned the trick of glamour, with the ruby stone that was at her throat.

The sword she saw often enough, but had never touched it…until now. No one had touched it, as far as she knew, but still it gleamed in the torch light and its edge was sharp. A plain looking sword it was, double edged, with a plain hilt, about three feet in length, looking so ordinary many had scoffed when shown it, saying it could not be Lightbringer. But there were no drawings, no paintings of the sword, no descriptions, except what was told of how it was made, and who died in the making. So no one really knew if it was Lightbringer or not. Once she asked how the sword came to be here in the temple but no one knew.

Bennaro ordered the guards to step back and without hesitation they did so. A wooden scabbard hung by a peg on the wall, there so long it was covered in layers of dust. He took it down and with a soft colt he wiped the dust away, and then cleaned the wood with water until it gleamed.

"Gently," he said, holding out the scabbard, the open end facing her. "Pick the sword up by the hilt."

She felt the guards looking at them, wondering, but obeying, staying still. She grasped the hilt with her right hand and slowly lifted the blade. To her surprise it was remarkably light.

"It weighs hardly anything," she said.

"Slide it into the scabbard."

It was done and then he handed her the sword. "There is no need to tell you to guard this with your life."

"You have just done so," she replied. "I must leave as soon as possible."

"Ships and supplies are yours. As are eight hundred men. Barquo will lead them. Twenty of our brothers and sister will go as well. When the war is won, you and they will stay and preach, and win these non-believers to our side."

"When the war is won they will all believe. But I will be dead, so others must carry on our work."

"Then this is goodbye, sister. May the Lord look on you with all his favor."

They sailed on the morning tide. Only once did trouble loom, when three pirate ships in the Step Stones readied to attack. But they got one look at the decks filled with fierce looking warriors and thought better of it and veered off, lowered sails, and fell behind. Favorable winds gave them speed and twelve days later White Harbor came into view. She was gone a little more than a month but much had happened in that time.

"They will not want us," she said to Barquo as they stood on the deck. "They praise the Seven in this town and the old gods in the rest of the North. We will need to convince them to let us help save their lives. I have been here before when I took a ship to Dragonstone. I know the son of their leader. You will accompany me but do not do anything unless I say."

"As you command, my lady."

There was no room to dock so the ship had to drop anchor and four crewmen rowed a small boat with her and Barquo to a stone stairway built into the side of one of the wharves. Here they were met by Ser Wylis Manderly and four guards, who could not help but look on Barquo's tattoos with surprise. Few in the west ever sported tattoos save sailors.

"My lady," Ser Wylis said. "I am surprised to see you back in the North."

"I have come for the final battle," she replied.

"Lord Snow banished you, on pain of death."

"Lord Snow?" she said in surprise. "Not King Jon?"

"He has bent the knee to Daenerys Targaryen."

"I see. Where are they now?"

"Winterfell," said a new voice, a woman's. She came along the wharf with a man by her side, the two alike in appearance, and both wore armor embossed with a kraken.

"Melisandre of Asshai," she said with a dip of her head.

"Yara and Theon Greyjoy," the woman replied. "So, what in hell is Stannis' red woman doing here?"

"We've come for the final battle. And King Stannis is dead. I am here to serve the Queen, and Jon Snow."

"All gone to Winterfell," said Theon.

"So Ser Wylis told me. What news of the war?"

"The Wall has fallen," Wylis told her, his demeanor gloomy as he said the words.

That was a shock. "When?"

"More than two weeks ago now," Yara said.

"How?"

So they explained, about the battle with Cersei's forces, the attempt at a truce, the death of the dragon, and its resurrection, and all that had gone on, especially about the attacks on the army and on King's Landing.

"He has a dragon that breathes ice…and she has ones that breathe fire," she said, quietly, almost as if to herself, and then she looked at them with urgency in her eyes and voice.

"Where are the Night King and his army now?" she asked.

"No one knows," Theon said.

"This changes everything," she said. "I must get to Winterfell. Ser Wylis, let my men land."

"I cannot…" he began but Yara stepped in.

"How many men?"

"Eight hundred, all strong warriors, and twenty of my order, skilled as I am."

The two Greyjoys looked at each other then back to her. "Was there word of our Uncle Euron in the east?" Theon asked.

"None I heard," she told them. "Why?"

"He is planning to pick up the Golden Company and bring it here, for Cersei."

She turned to Barquo and spoke in High Valyrian. "They ask about the Golden Company. Where is it now?"

"Near Tyrosh last I heard. But that was many weeks ago."

She explained to them and Yara explained what she wanted. "If you did not see them on the way here he may still be in Tyrosh or coming behind you. If we sink his fleet we will have an edge," she said. "But we have few men and only one ship. Lend us yours."

"The real war is in the North," Melisandre said. "And your Uncle may have already arrived in King's Landing. What say the Queen and Jon Snow about all this?"

"Nothing," said a new voice and there was Lord Varys making his way along the dock. "A raven flew but none has come back yet," Varys told her. "My lady, come inside out of the cold."

"It does not bother me."

"But it does me," Varys replied, looking uncomfortable in the furs he was wearing, so unalike the perfumed robes he was used to she surmised. "Ser Wylis, I do believe we can let her men land. After all they are here to fight on our side."

"Lord Snow will not like it."

"Let me worry about that. We need all the help we can get. And the Fiery Hand has a reputation for fearlessness. That we certainly need."

"As you wish," Ser Wylis answered. "But be it on your head if Lord Snow gets angered."

Into the town she went with Varys as Barquo stayed behind to supervise the unloading of men and supplies. She only had one order for Barquo, to leave the sword on her ship, and make sure it was well guarded. She glanced back as they walked towards the main castle with the Greyjoys.

"We seem to have a very large fleet," she said.

"Aye," Theon replied. "Sitting here doing nothing. They cannot do anything to stop the Walkers."

"Snow will see the sense of it," Yara said. "We must strike them at sea. If the Golden Company lands that will mean more trouble."

"Or help," Varys said. "Surely Cersei must now see the folly of all she is doing."

"She'll never give up," said Yara. "Varys, give us the ships. You have such power."

"Alas, I cannot do so without permission. If they and you are lost then surely I will lose my head. Or worse. We must await word from Winterfell."

* * *

 **Winterfell – Sansa**

The Queen and the lords and commanders gathered in the great hall to hear the news Lord Varys had sent. Sansa sat at the head table in the center, the seat of honor, as the ruler of Winterfell, with the Queen to her right. The Queen would normally take the seat of honor but not all had bent the knee to her yet and so Sansa decided it would not be right to seat her where her father once sat, and the Queen had made no comment about it. Tyrion was to the Queen's right and Bran was to Sansa's left, with Ser Davos next to him. Jon stood before the table, while Arya stood directly behind the Queen, and Sandor Clegane and Brienne stood directly behind Sansa. Near the back of the hall Sam, Bronn, Pod, Tormund, Beric Dondarrion, and Lord Commander Edd Tollett sat at a table.

Seeing Sandor again after so long brought back so many memories, some good, but many bad ones.

"Did he really save you during a riot?" Arya had asked after the army arrived. "He told me that once but I didn't believe him."

"Yes, he did. And during the Battle of Blackwater Bay he asked me to leave the city with him…and I said no. I thought I would be safer there. How wrong I was. I only wish I had gone with him that night of the Blackwater. Maybe…maybe…"

"Ramsey is dead," Arya said, knowing what she was driving at. "Littlefinger is dead. And we are still here, surviving."

"Yes…but life could have been so different."

Sandor came to her soon after they arrived. "Little bird," he said as a way of greeting, standing before her in the courtyard after they had taken Jaime Lannister to his cell.

"Sandor, I am glad you are still with us," she replied and she smiled. And then he did something that shocked her. In the courtyard, in front of all, he got down on one knee in the mud and snow.

"Lady Stark, I pledge my sword to your house," he said. "If you will have me."

All eyes were on her. The Hound had a bad reputation in the North, had killed people of her house, but she had forgiven all that a long time ago, for he had done more than enough in return for her and Arya.

She said the proper words and then he rose and dipped his head. "I am yours to command." A few people nearby scowled or shook their heads but said nothing.

She did not know what to say and then knew, knew it had to be him, for she would trust no other. "I need a personal guard."

"I thought Brienne was your guard."

"She is but she cannot do so all the time. Talk with her and make a plan."

He seemed displeased and she knew why. "Arya told me what happened between you two. There will be no more of that."

"Aye, my lady. Seems we have already put that behind us. Very well." Brienne did not protest the new plan and Sansa was glad.

And then there was Tyrion. So much to be said. He came to her solar the first night after a brief reunion in the courtyard. In as few words as possible they both agreed to annul the marriage.

"Thank you, my lord," she said when he gave his answer.

"I would have been a good husband," he said as he stood from the table, unsteady, for he was more than a little drunk.

"I know. But we don't love each other."

"No…we don't. I did love someone once…but that is…never mind."

"Shae, wasn't it? She was more than my handmaiden, wasn't she?"

"Yes," he said, the guilt obvious in his voice. "We were husband and wife in name only, you and I. And she was my lover long before our marriage."

"I know."

"How did you find out?"

"Ramsey took delight in telling me all about your trial and what went on after. Thought it would either anger me or disgust me, knowing my husband slept with another woman."

"Did it? Anger or disgust you?"

"Neither. I was too numb to feel anything."

"He was cruel to you, wasn't he?"

"Yes," she said, but she did not want to think on that. "I am sorry, but I must ask. Did you kill Shae and your father?"

"I did," he said, his voice heavy with regret. "They betrayed me, my love and my blood. I have heard you have a reputation for doing the same to those who have wronged you. Ramsey? Littlefinger?"

"Both dead, at my command."

"Good," he said. "I owed Littlefinger a rope myself, for Varys told me of all he did to start the wars."

"Varys was there, Bran said, when Baelish lied about the dagger to my parents."

"Yes…Bran does have these visions, I have heard from Jon Snow. A useful gift, to sort out the lies and the truth. That vision tells of a lie that saw me almost perish, and many more actually perish."

"We cannot undo all that now, but I am sure my mother would apologize if she had known the truth."

"Yes. And I must apologize on behalf of my house, for what happened at the Twins. My father planned it, as surely you must know, but I had no knowledge of that. And neither did Jaime."

"The North will never accept such an apology. I fear for your safety, my lord."

"The Queen has my back, so not to worry."

He seemed ready to go but then he had one more question. "The Freys. Who did that?"

"Arya."

"Gods. How?"

"It is not my place to say. But she is not a little girl anymore. None of us are."

"No…I suppose not. Sleep well, my lady."

None of them were what they once were, that was for certain. And she also knew something more about Arya. She was falling in love.

She would never admit it, but seeing her with Gendry, and Sansa knew they were more than friends. How she fussed over him when he was sick, how she spent as much time as possible with him when not escorting the Queen, how she always sat with him in the great hall at meal times, smiling, laughing, talking to him and him alone, not even sitting at the head table where she belonged.

Sansa was not the only one to notice. "Does she love him?" Jon asked one morning after breakfast.

"I don't know and she would never admit it, but I think so."

"The Queen wants to make him lord of Storm's End."

"Arya told me. The Queen also said I need to get married."

"Aye, maybe so. House Stark needs to rebuild. It needs…well, it…"

She smiled. "I know what it needs. A future, if the gods allow it. But there is no one I love."

"That is a problem."

A problem, but not for Jon and the Queen. Sansa and Arya also saw the way they acted together and finally they cornered Ser Davos near the forge one day, when Arya was not needed as escort because Jon and the Queen were on patrol with the dragons north. He was talking to Gendry, Mikken, and the other smiths with Bronn, who was describing a bolt throwing device that could take down dragons. They pulled Ser Davos into the coal shed and got the truth.

"Aye, I believe they fell in love down south," he told them in a low voice. "But they are restraining themselves for the good of the war effort."

"What?" Arya asked.

"He means they are not seeing each other…alone…at night."

"Oh," Arya said. "Oh…right. Because he is…well…he's ...

"A Northern lord," Ser Davos said as Sansa gave Arya a wide eyed look that screamed 'shut up!'. "And your other clannish Northern lords would not take it too well. It's hard enough to get them to bend the knee to anyone. Imagine if they knew the truth? So we'll keep all this to ourselves, aye?"

"Aye."

He left them and Sansa and Arya looked at each other. "It's because he knows who he is now," Arya said in a low voice.

"Yes. And he can't even tell her."

"Poor Jon," Arya replied. "Life has never been fair to him, ever."

"No…but it seems fair to you. Tell me about Gendry."

"What about him? He's my friend."

"Just your friend?"

Arya just shook her head. "Shut up," and walked away and Sansa did not ask again, for there was no need.

And so life went on in Winterfell, until the day Lord Varys sent a raven from White Harbor.

"The capital was heavily attacked by the Night King," Jon told the gathering in a somber voice. "It seems tens of thousands may have died."

There was a low muttering and then Lord Manderly spoke. "What of Cersei Lannister? Did she perish?"

"Varys is unsure. Or rather his source is unsure."

"What is this source, my King?" Lord Glover asked.

"Theon and Yara Greyjoy," Jon told them and that caused some rumbling and angry looks. Jon pressed on before the anger simmered over. "Theon rescued his sister from the city where she was held prisoner. They were there while the Night King attacked. They are now in White Harbor. There is more. Theon claims he captured one of Euron Greyjoy's ships and the crew admitted Euron was not going to the Iron Islands, but to Essos, to pick up the Golden Company…to fight for Cersei."

This news Sansa and the others at the head table knew before the gathering, for Bronn had finally revealed that part of Cersei's plan when in his cups with Tyrion the night before. But the rest had not heard and were very surprised. Lord Royce stood. "I have said it before, never trust a Lannister." Many eyes looked to Tyrion who merely raised an eyebrow and drank from his wine cup. "Devious, ill-minded, treacherous, they all are," Lord Royce continued and then he sat.

Lady Mormont had something more useful to say. "We must send the fleet to stop Euron Greyjoy," she said. Sitting next to her was her cousin Ser Jorah, among his own kin again. Sansa had heard the reunion was terse until Ser Jorah assured Lyanna and the rest he had no claim to the lordship of Bear Island and only wanted to return there someday.

"Aye," Jon agreed. "Theon and Yara Greyjoy request all our ships, the Queen's and Lord Manderly's, to stop Euron Greyjoy before he reaches Westeros."

"Never, my King," Lord Manderly said. "Never will my ships be commanded by those brigands."

Lord Glover agreed. He stood, full of anger. "All the Greyjoy brats deserve is a rope for what they did to our lands and our people. Many of my people died when they attacked my lands. As they did in Winterfell. Theon hacked off Ser Rodrik's head in front of your brothers, my King. He butchered and burned two innocent farm boys to make people think he had killed your brothers. Maester Luwin was slaughtered as well as many more."

As he spoke Sansa thought on all of Theon's crimes, and then what he had done to save her, and was about to rise to speak but Jon spoke first.

"We know of his crimes," Jon said. "And he has been punished, terribly so, by Ramsey Bolton. I had my chance to kill him on Dragonstone, but I remembered how he saved Sansa from the Boltons, how he helped her flee from their clutches, and so I stayed my hand."

"One good deed does not erase his crimes," Lord Glover said. "I will not sanction anything to give him and his sister more power. Who knows what they will do with our fleet once they defeat their uncle?" He then turned to Lord Manderly. "I ask you, my lord, to send word to your son to put them both in chains."

Before Lord Manderly could answer Daenerys stood, anger also in her eyes and voice. "The Greyjoys are my allies," she said in ringing tones. "They are more experienced than any of you in a sea battle. We need them to face Euron Greyjoy's fleet. And if anyone harms them there will be consequences."

Lord Glover wouldn't even look at her. His and all other eyes were on Jon. "My King…"

"I am not a king," Jon said, sounding weary of it all. "Not anymore."

"As you wish…my lord," Lord Glover says. "We cannot let Theon Turncoat go unpunished. Ramsey may have gelded him, but he is still alive. Aye, he saved Lady Sansa, but all he did before must count against that one good deed. What they did to the North is almost as bad as what Tywin Lannister and his Frey allies did. We were avenged of that crime, by someone, and the gods may praise her whoever she is. May she or someone else see justice done to the Greyjoys as well."

Sansa glanced back at Arya as these words rang through the hall, and she stood there, stony faced, and Sansa knew what she was thinking.

Jon looked with pain at Daenerys. "You named me Warden of the North, Your Grace."

"I did."

"Then as Warden of the North I cannot ignore the wishes of my battle commanders. If I do so, the army will come apart. And that cannot be allowed to happen."

She was tight lipped and anger simmered in her eyes, but before she could speak Tyrion arose from his seat and quickly went to stand beside Jon.

"My lords, and ladies, we…"

"You have no place here, Lannister," Lord Manderly said, his eyes glaring. "My youngest son died at the Red Wedding. Your Queen may protect you, call you lord, but we all know what you truly are. A man who murdered his own sire is cursed in the eyes of gods and men. Kinslayer."

"Ah, a name worthy to stand beside my brother," Tyrion quipped. Sansa braced herself, for she knew what an acid tongue he had, and he was sure to insult someone. "The whole realm curses me for killing a man you all feared and despised. Jaime's name has been dragged through torrents of mud because he of you all had the balls to do what needed doing." He turned to look at Daenerys. "Pardons, Your Grace, but your father was mad, and he planned to burn down the whole capital and all in it."

"So I have been told," she said tersely. "Do you have a point?"

"Of course." He turned back to the assemblage. "Theon and Yara Greyjoy have done things, things you cannot ever forgive. I understand that, for I will possibly never be forgiven by my few remaining relations for the things I have done. Yet, like me, the Greyjoys are useful. I say we send them to sea, find their uncle and stop him, even send them to attack King's Landing. My whore of a sister, if she still lives, certainly does not care about us, so why should we care about her? And the fleet is quite useless in a war against the White Walkers. If by chance Theon and Yara die in battle, then so be it, and may their names be cursed forevermore. But know this. King's Landing is weakened now, thanks to our other enemy. We may never have a better chance to stop Cersei. She does not want to join us. Fine. May she roast in a nice hot hell for an eternity. The person who kills her shall be handsomely rewarded, by me. And a Lannister always pays his debts."

This caused some more talk among the commanders and finally Lord Glover spoke. "I hate all you Lannisters," he began. "But you have a point. I say we give them the ships, but send word to Lord Varys to tell the crews to kill those two if there is any sign of treachery."

Lady Mormont looked troubled. "If we give them the ships we are calling them allies. We cannot kill them after, or we would be as bad as a Lannister. There is no honor in that."

"No honor at all, my lady," Jon said. "We all have grievances against others in the kingdoms." Jon looked at Tyrion. "His family has done terrible things, and my family went to war with his. Yet here he stands, helping us. Fate has a strange way of making enemies into allies of late. I agree with what Lord Tyrion and Lord Glover say. We give them the ships, and let them prove their worth. But if they survive, we cannot then execute them. There is no honor in that. And if we tarnish our honor, we are, as Lady Mormont said, as bad as a Lannister." Tyrion dipped his head slightly to Jon at this last. "I am Warden of the North," Jon continued. "But on such a matter I ask the lords and ladies present to give their sanction to this action."

"Aye," said Lady Mormont at once.

"Aye," agreed Lord Glover and Lord Royce.

"Yes," said Sansa, when Jon looked to her.

The young lady and lord of the Karstarks and Umbers agreed as well, looking nervous in so grand company and being asked to vote on something so important.

Lord Manderly was last and hesitated. "An easy thing to say when they are not your ships. Much time and wealth has gone into building them."

Davos stood. "I am no military man, my lord, but I have sailed the seas all my life. And one thing I do know. A ship and its crew will rot if they stay in port too long. They are meant to be on the seas, doing what they do best."

"These old words I know well, Ser Davos," Manderly replied. He then looked to Jon. "My lord, if I give my assent, then my son Wylis will lead the attack, not the Greyjoys."

Jon hesitated and then nodded. "As you wish, my lord. I will write to Lord Varys and you to your son, so there are no misunderstandings."

The meeting broke up and Jon and Lord Manderly went to the rookery to write and send the ravens.

The hall was soon empty except for Sansa, Tyrion, the Queen, Arya, Sandor, and Brienne. "That was unpleasant," said the Queen. "I am not used to people talking to me in such a manner."

"Best get used to it," Tyrion said. "They do not bend so easily in the North."

"At least we finally agreed on something," Sansa said. "And now I have a castle to run. It is soon time for lunch. Your Grace." She dipped her head and then walked away with Brienne and Sandor following her. Outside they went and there was Tormund, waiting. He actually looked like he had cleaned himself and he didn't smell as bad as usual.

"Gods," Brienne said in a low voice.

"Lady Stark, might I have a word with Brienne?" Tormund asked.

"Of course," Sansa said, trying to suppress a giggle. Brienne gave her an exasperated look as she and Sandor walked away.

"He loves her," said Sansa as they walked across the courtyard to the great keep, people dipping their head to her as she walked past.

"Aye, maybe so. He fancies her, for sure."

"He told you so?"

"Said he wanted to make giant babies with her."

Sansa had to laugh at that. "Yes, they would be quite big."

"Never happen."

"No? Why not?"

"She has eyes only for Ser Jaime."

"What? Really? How do you know?"

"Bronn and Pod told me."

"Maybe they are wrong."

"Aye, maybe. Ask her yourself then."

"I will."

The kitchens were their first stop, Sansa inspecting all, making sure the proper food was prepared for the Queen and lords, and enough was for the rest. Many people had brought food with them, and Winterfell had many supplies, most of it deep underground in storage vaults, but she worried on the numbers they now had to feed. Down underground they went next, to talk to the steward who was counting barrels of wine and ale. He gave her the latest figures and then she and Sandor emerged above ground and made their way to the great central keep where her rooms were.

They had reached the entrance to the great keep and she had stepped inside, gone up the first steps and then stopped and looked at him. "It will come to nothing, Jaime and Brienne," she said. "Jaime is for the Wall if he survives…if we all survive."

"Aye…a big if."

They were alone in the semi gloom of the lower staircase, she on a higher step so she was almost at face level with him. Once she had feared to look at that scarred face but now it held no terrors for her, for she had seen and lived with real monsters. "Sandor…do something for me?"

"Anything."

"If I die…"

"Don't…," he began but she cut him off.

"If I die…make sure I burn. Don't leave me to become one of them."

"Fire is a terrible thing, little bird."

"I know you hate it. But that fate is much worse."

He nodded. "Maybe so."

She continued up the stairs, he following. Into her rooms she went, to her desk where papers waited for her. He checked the rooms, made sure all was secure, and then went to stand beside the door. Time passed as she read reports on how many people were in and near Winterfell now and how much food and drink they had, and then she knew they could never survive a long winter…unless they had fewer mouths to feed.

He stood there the whole time, looking stern as always, and many memories came flooding back. "Sandor?"

"Aye, my lady?"

"Joffrey, when you guarded him…what was he like with you?"

"You saw. He was a little monster."

"No, but with you, I mean…was he cruel?"

"If calling me dog day and night was cruel then I suppose so. But never like he was with you."

Memories came back, of a day kneeling in the throne room, the man she was supposed to marry telling her she was to blame for her brother's victory, having his guard beat her…and then Tyrion and Bronn came, and Sandor gave her his cloak.

"I wanted to thank you, for that day you gave me your cloak."

"No need."

"Yes, there is. And I should have gone with you when you asked."

"Maybe so. All in the past, little bird. Let us try to forget."

"I can't."

"Aye…neither can I. Some things…I wish…" He hesitated and then spoke rapidly, so fast she was not sure of all the words after he was done. "Joffrey was cruel, aye, but the cruelest thing he ever did was here, in Winterfell."

"What?"

He stepped closer to her desk, into the center of the room. "The man who attacked your brother, the dagger, all that…it was Joffrey's doing."

Sansa felt a shock go through her. "No, Littlefinger, he gave the dagger to the man."

"Who said so?"

"Bran...no, he didn't. He just said the dagger was his."

"It never was his. Your brother has the wrong of that. It was King Robert's, a gift from some lord or something. Littlefinger wasn't here then, was he?"

"What…no, he wasn't."

"But Joffrey was. He asked me to find a man, someone in the King's camp or the town, a thief."

"But why?"

"A game, one of his damn fool games, at least I thought. Always up to something or another, usually harmless. Not this time."

She gulped for she knew what he would say, but it couldn't be. "Sandor…what game was Joffrey playing?"

"Kill your crippled brother, he wanted."

"Gods. Why?"

"I don't know. But he took the blade from Robert's collection in one of the wagons. That's all I knew. I took the man to see Joffrey in the stables and Joffrey ordered me out. I saw the dagger in his hand, the one your sister wears on her belt now. But we left the next day, weren't here when it happened. I never knew what he had done till I heard your mother had taken Tyrion. Then we found out she had come to King's Landing and was asking questions about a dagger."

"And then Littlefinger told her it was Tyrion's…and…gods."

"Aye."

"We must tell them," she said. "Tell Tyrion, tell Bran…tell everyone!" She stood and went for the door but he stood in her way.

"What good would it do? Joffrey is dead. Your mother and father as well. They are all dead."

She was shocked at his words and stood back and she saw he regretted it. "Sorry. Big mouth goes on sometimes." He stood back also. "Go on. Tell them. I won't stop you."

She started for the door but stopped. "You must come with me. They have to hear it from you."

But then a horn rang, low muted, from outside…once…twice…three times. She knew what that meant, what Jon had told her.

"White Walkers," she said and they ran from the room.

* * *

 **Winterfell – Bran**

He was deep in that other world when he saw the enemy. Connected to a raven, Bran let his mind range north, using the bird's eyes to see. He was on his way back, when he saw the lone White Walker on his horse on the Kingsroad. There were no wights, just the one enemy on his pale dead horse, sitting there, looking towards Winterfell. Then the Walker looked up and saw Bran, but Bran was not afraid. This was not the Night King.

Why he feared the Night King he knew not, but it must have something to do with when he touched him that time, breaking the spell, allowing him and the rest to cross the cave's threshold. That stupid act had so many consequences. Hodor…Summer…the Children…all gone now. And the Three Eyed Raven as well. Bran was not ready to take his place but he must.

Warg power the wildlings called it, Jon said. The ability to enter an animal's mind…but Bran could do it with people as well. With Hodor it had been simple, and Bran now knew why, for he had done it to Hodor long ago, yet…how could that be, how could…thinking about the time line and the consequences of actions manifesting themselves here and now that he had not yet done made his head spin and ache. Sam's too, when Bran explained it all to him.

They were in the library, going over the books and Master Luwin's scrolls, looking for help to understand Bran's powers. He felt Sam shake his arm and he came back to the room.

"Bran! Bran! We are under attack! The Walkers have come."

"No," Bran said. "Just one. A scout."

Sam stared at him in surprise. "How…oh…a raven?"

"Yes."

"I must go see what is happening."

Sam left him and then Bran went back, searching for the raven, found it, and joined it, as easy as slipping into a bath of warm water. The ravens no longer resisted him, used to his presence now. Sometimes he sensed others in there, the Children of another age, dim memories of another time, when they had bonded with the ravens, when the ravens could speak, and tell their messages with words, but that age was now passed.

He flew over the battlements and saw them all arrayed there, waiting, while down below the Queen and Jon stood by the dragons and many men stood to arms in the camps outside the walls. He flew close to where Tyrion his brother and Bronn stood on the walls and listened to them talk.

"So, that's a White Walker," Jaime said.

"Don't look so tough," Bronn added.

"Looks can be deceiving," Tyrion told them. "And remember, they command hordes of wights."

Then down below the Queen spoke to some of her Dothraki and five men went yelling and whopping as they mouthed their horses and charged out towards the White Walker. It stood there, unconcerned, and then they saw why. From the nearby forest out stepped hundreds of wights, seemingly appearing as if from nowhere.

"Here we go," said Bronn. "Let's just hope the ice dragon don't show up."

The bolt thrower was not ready yet, the smiths still working on the machine Bronn told them about. The only defense they had against the Night King was the Queen and her dragons…and Jon.

Sam and he had long discussions on Jon, and the prophecy of the prince who was promised, and on Jon's father, and the one question that always came up was why Lyanna would name a second son of Rhaegar as Aegon when his first son had the same name. Bran searched back into the past…and found a scene, from long ago…of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna, the day Rhaegar left for the war…and it was Rhaegar who gave the as yet unborn child this name.

It was outside the Tower of Joy. A heavily pregnant Lyanna stood nearby with two other women. Rhaegar and two men readied horses, while three others, knights of the Kingsguard, stood nearby, Ser Arthur Dayne among them.

"I do not recommend this, my prince," Ser Arthur Dayne said to Rhaegar.

"As you have said, Ser Arthur," Rhaegar answered. "My father calls for me and I must go. Robert Baratheon and all the strength of the North and Vale will soon join and ride for the Riverlands. What else can I do?"

"Tell the truth, my prince," Ser Arthur said. "Tell the realm what you have done. End the wars."

"Wise words. But my father would never agree. Do you think Robert would? Would Ned Stark after what my father did to his family?"

"No."

"No. The Martells will certainly be angered if they knew. We need their spearmen. That will come later, when the war is won. Now I must ride for the capital where our armies gather. You will stay here and guard my wife and our child to come."

"We must go with you," Ser Arthur said. "We are the Kingsguard, we…"

"Obey," said Rhaegar. "Do you not?"

"We do, my prince. As you command."

And then came the farewell. Rhaegar took Lyanna's hands in his. "Soon I will be back, my love," he said as he kissed her forehead. "Then I will tell the world of my love for you and our marriage."

"Yes, my prince," she said. "I will have a strong son for you when you return. I ask only one thing of you."

"Anything."

"My brother, Ned…if you see him on the battlefield, turn the other way. If either of you dies at the hands of the other, I could never forgive that act."

"I will do as you say. And what of Robert Baratheon?"

"He was a kind man, but I never loved him. Do what you must to end this war."

He put a hand on her stomach and held it for a while. "We will name him Aegon," he said in a whisper.

She seemed surprised. "But, your son has the same name."

"He is not the true Aegon, this I now know. Our son will be the prince who was promised."

"The prophecy?"

"Yes. You are ice, and I am fire, and he will be of both. It must be so. We will name him Aegon."

"Yes, my love."

A last kiss and the prince mounted his steed and with his two companions rode north. Lyanna stood for a long time watching, and then returned to the tower…where she was fated to die.

"But what does it all mean?" Bran asked Sam. "Why is the name Aegon special?"

"I don't know." So they continued to read and search.

On the snowy field before the castle near the Kingsroad a small drama was taking place. The White Walker had climbed down off his horse and brandished his long icy weapon. The five Dothraki reached the Walker before the wights and a small battle took place. The Walker was no pushover. He killed two Dothraki and wounded a third before a dragon glass spear found his right arm and he shattered into ice and snow.

But the accompanying wights did not fall to pieces, as expected.

"Oh, bugger," said Tyrion.

Then the wights were on them, and the initial group of Dothraki soon died. More Dothraki and Unsullied charged out from the camps as did wildlings and the Queen was on her dragon, with Arya close behind her. Jon was down there, leading the Northerners' slow charge to the Kingsroad, the snow not too deep, but a hindrance anyway. Jon was with Tormund and Beric Dondarrion, the Hound, Brienne, Lord Glover, and Ser Jorah as well, and for the next ten minutes it was chaos, a swirling battle, that none on the battlements could help. Lord Royce had the Vale cavalry mounted up but they could not charge the swirling melee without running over friends as well as foes. The dragon was not much help either, the two sides mixed too closely together. At one point some more wights appeared at the edge of the forest and Drogon roasted them all, and the smoke from the fires his flames caused drifted over the field of snow. Then the battle was over, the wights all destroyed, more than two hundred of them as they later counted. The remains were all burned soon enough. Bran flew down to see what he could see, and he found a scene of loss and heartbreak.

Beric Dondarrion lay in the snow, a spear wound through his body, blood staining the snow under him, as Jon and Ser Jorah and Tormund stood over him. Jon bent and grasped his hand.

"This time there is no coming back," Lord Beric gasped and as the light left his eyes he seemed to even sigh and smile a bit.

Jon stood, a grim look on his face, as he looked around at their losses. Dragon glass weapons had killed most of the wights, as did the few Valyrian steel weapons they had, with Jon and Brienne doing much damage. But getting close to the wights meant they got close to you as well, and so there were casualties. Oil was brought and the dead were piled and burned, thirty-five of them, some from each group, but Lord Beric was the only leader who even got a scratch. Twenty–six more had some wounds of one sort or another, the worst being a wildling that was stabbed in the side with a spear, and he would die two days later. The other wounded were brought inside, and Sansa and Maester Wolkan ordered the healers about as they got to work.

Bran left the bird and then was back in the library. Sam came back after a bit and to Bran's surprise he had a very large sword in his hands. He started to explain what happened but Bran cut him off. "I know."

"Oh."

"Why do you have the sword?"

"This? It's my family's. I mean, it's been in my family a long time. It's called Heartsbane. Made of Valyrian steel."

"Really?"

"Yes. I wanted to go out there but Lady Stark held me back at the gates. Said I was too valuable to get killed in such a way."

"Sansa was right, Sam. You are a maester in training, not a swordsman."

"I know how to use it," Sam protested. "Night's Watch taught me that much, at least."

"But you are needed here. And maybe it would serve better in someone else's hands."

"Maybe so," Sam agreed. "Who?"

"I don't know. Someone who will use it."

"Arya?"

"No, she prefers Needle."

"And Jon has Longclaw. Brienne has a good sword, Oathkeeper. What about the Hound?"

"Think he likes the sword he has. So does Bronn."

"Well, I wouldn't feel right giving it to him. He's a sellsword, I mean. He might want to keep it."

"Oh. Right. Let's get back to work."

"I forgot. I have a message. The commanders are meeting and Jon requests your presence."

"I don't have to be there. I can hear from here."

"Yes…I suppose so."

And then he was with the raven again, flying down and then into the great hall as someone opened the door to walk inside.

"A disaster," Lord Royce was saying. "We cannot fight like that in future."

"Not a disaster," said Jon. "A mistake. It cost us but we have learned from it."

"We should stay on the battlements," someone said but Bran could not see who it was.

"No," said Jon. "We cannot fight them from the battlements, not if we hope to win. They can stand out in the snow and ice for a hundred years while we freeze and starve. We must take the battle to them. That was only a test, to see if we were ready…to draw us out, bloody us. And like fools we fell for it. Not anymore. We dig trenches and build barricades. All around the castle. From high and low we will rain fire and dragon glass arrows on them, break their ranks, and give the cavalry a chance to charge if a chance presents itself. And give our dragons room to do what they do best. The bulk of the infantry stays close to the castle, behind barricades. In front we dig a low trench and fill it with brush and oil. When they charge it we will fire the oil and burn them all. And no one charges out at them except at my command. Is that clear?"

No one argued with him and Jon looked relieved. "Good. We have much work to do."

Many of the commanders left to give the orders to their men and plan the defenses. Bran sat on a window sill as more discussion began between Tyrion, Bronn, Tormund, the Queen, Jon, Arya, Ser Davos, and Ser Jorah.

"That was a fucking mess," Tormund said in his crude way. "More good men killed for nothing."

Ser Jorah agreed. "Two hundred or so wights we killed, for almost two score our own dead. Including Dondarrion. We cannot match dead for dead with them. If we keep dying at this rate we will all be dead long before they are finished."

"We will do better next time," Jon said.

"They did not die," the Queen said. "The Dothraki killed the Walker and they did not die."

"I know," Jon replied, troubled by this as well.

Tyrion spoke up. "Well, the obvious answer is this particular Walker did not make them. I think they are beginning to understand our strategy. In future they will not include Walkers who made the wights doing the attack."

"But it all comes back to him," Jon said. "If he made them all, then he must be the one who dies to end all this. Bran said he saw the Children of the Forest make the first Walker, the Night King. If he is the first, then he must be the one who made the rest. Craster's sons were many, and many Walkers there are, maybe even more made from babies of other free folk woman. But if we destroy the Night King, they will all die."

"A good plan," said Bronn. "If you're right."

"If I am not, then there is no hope," said Jon in his grim Northern way and that sobered them up.

"Where was the other dragon?" Ser Davos asked.

"Not here," Tyrion said.

"Aye, not here," said Bronn. "Good thing cause we aren't ready for it yet."

"I believe you have some work to do on that matter," Tyrion replied.

"Right you are." He left and Davos went with him.

"Will it work?" Ser Jorah asked Tyrion.

"It did once," he said with a look to the Queen.

"Drogon did not die," she replied with a testy look to Tyrion.

"No, but he almost fell to the ground, Your Grace."

"Almost," she said. "That's not good enough for the Night King and…Viserion."

Jon spoke. "I think we can't depend on a chance shot from a bolt. We don't even know if Viserion will be affected by dragon glass or Valyrian steel."

"Fire must do then, to bring him down," Daenerys said.

"Maybe you need two dragons for that," said Arya.

"I have two dragons," Daenerys answered.

"Yes, Your Grace, but Rhaegal follows you and Drogon like a puppy after his mother."

Daenerys smiled slightly. "No one has ever called my dragons puppies before."

"Sorry…but you see my point. The best way to attack Viserion would be from two directions at once. If both dragons get caught in that cone of cold at the same time, with us on Drogon…"

"Disaster," said Tyrion. "Lady Arya has a good point. But how do we do it?"

"Two riders," said Arya.

Jon was looking at her and shaking his head and then Bran knew what she was about to do. Without even thinking he leaped into her mind.

"What? Who? BRAN! NO! Get out!" she screamed at him in her mind.

"You mustn't do it. You must let Jon do it in his own way, his own time."

"There is no time. GET OUT!" And then he felt such anger from her it almost seemed to hurt and he had to flee and so he let her go. When he was back inside the raven it had taken off, flying up to the ceiling, where Bran made it land on a thick wooden cross beam. Arya was looking around, angry, and then she spotted the bird and gave him a dangerous stare.

"There is no other," the Queen was saying…and then she was looking at Jon. "Unless…the dragons do like you."

Jon nodded, but was not looking at her. "Aye, they do."

"But he is not a Targaryen," said Tyrion.

"No, he is not," said the Queen, looking at Jon intently. "Leave us, please. Yes, Arya, you as well."

"Yes, Your Grace. I think it's time I had a chat with my other brother," Arya said. Trouble to come but he would not leave the raven yet.

Soon only Daenerys and Jon were in the hall. "Who was your mother?" she asked right away. "Was she of my family?"

He sighed. "This is a conversation you do not want to have."

"No? And why not?"

"Because I am not ready to tell you, Your Grace. And you will certainly not be ready to hear the answer."

"Jon…I must know," she said, her voice growing quiet. "We need a rider for Rhaegal. Do you have my blood?"

He hesitated and then his Stark honor came through and he nodded. "Aye."

"How?" she asked in so low a voice Bran almost didn't hear. "Your mother?"

"No."

"No? But your father was a Stark."

"No…he was not. Eddard Stark was not my father. I have Stark blood…through his sister, Lyanna."

"Lyanna Stark?" she said in shock. "But…but she died, in Dorne, I was told."

"She did…having me…in a tower, where your brother Rhaegar took her."

"Kidnapped her, you mean."

"No…he did not. She went with him…she loved him. And he her. They were married, in secret."

She was too stunned to speak for a moment and then many things seem to dawn on her at once. "Gods. Then this means…you mean…no…that cannot be."

"It is. I am the son of Rhaegar Targaryen, your brother."

She was too shocked to speak, and then sat at a nearby table. "How…how do you know?" she asked.

Jon sat with her and as he began to explain, Bran felt a slap on his face and he was back in the library.

"Owww."

"Serves you right," said Arya, looming over him, trying to be calm but failing. "Do it again and I will do worse."

"What did he do?" Sam asked from behind her.

"He was in my head. I'm not going to end up like Hodor!"

"I'm sorry. I had to stop you."

"Never again."

"I promise."

She stared at him and nodded. "Good."

"Wait," said Sam. "You were in her head?"

"He was," said Arya.

"How do you know?"

"How…because I felt him."

"Oh, that's interesting."

"Yes, it is," said Bran. "She fought me off. It hurt."

"Did it?" Arya said. "Good."

"You could feel him, fight him off," Sam said. "Are you a warg?"

"No…I don't think so."

"Did you ever dream of Nymeria?" Bran asked.

"Many times…I…oh…I was with her, but…no…was I inside her?"

"Maybe," said Sam. "You should try to find her."

"I did…in the Riverlands," Arya said. "But that story can wait for later. Bran, what happened after I left?"

"He told her."

"Good."

"Told who what?" Sam asked.

Bran answered. "Jon told Daenerys he is of her blood."

"Oh," said Sam. "Yes, it is about time."

"How did she take it?" Arya asked.

"I don't know. You slapped me."

"Then go back!" Arya almost shouted and Bran was back, inside the raven, still sitting on the beam high above…and there was Jon…sitting…all alone…the Queen gone.

They went to him, the three of them and found him still there, looking very gloomy, more so than usual.

"I'm sorry," Arya said. "But we need the dragons with two riders."

"Aye, we do," Jon said. He looked at Bran in his chair. "Were you listening?"

"I was. Sorry. It's hard for me to get around, so…I listen."

"Not to worry."

"How did she take it?" Sam asked.

"Badly. She and I…well…we…"

"We know," said Arya. "We see the way you two look at each other."

"So…so there is that."

"Does she know you have a better claim?" Sam asked.

"We did not discuss it…but it will come to her if not already. We never tell anyone. If they ask why the dragons like me we tell them my mother had Targaryen blood. Agreed?"

"Yes," they all said.

Jon stood. "Good. Hopefully all will be well…I hope."

"It will," Arya said.

"Aye. Well, at least one good thing came of it."

"What?" Sam asked.

Jon grinned a bit. "Tomorrow I learn how to fly a dragon."


	6. Chapter 6

**Game of Thrones Season 8 - Chapter 6**

 **King's Landing – Euron**

"What the fuck happened here?" Euron Greyjoy asked from the deck of his massive ship. Looking at King's Landing from the sea he could see large parts of the city were covered in ice, glittering in the low sunlight of a late morning on a cloudy day.

"Don't know," said Homeless Harry Strickland from his side. "Winter has come I guess"

Euron looked at Strickland with a mild sort of amusement mixed with disgust. Gone to fat, a few grey hairs on his almost bald dome, and a weakling's chin, Strickland was not what anyone would call a commander of men. Old, tired looking, constantly complaining…it was enough to drive a man to throw him over the side of the ship. But no, he was the commander of the Golden Company and so Euron had to tolerate him…for now. How he had he became commander Euron didn't bother himself to find out. All he knew was the men elected their own leaders and somehow this fool had won their votes.

Ever since Cersei had told him her mad plan he was beset by one difficulty after another. The first part had been the easiest, convincing all those fools in the Dragonpit he was sailing for home, though it didn't seem so easy at the time.

"How?" he asked her the night before when she had put the plan to him in her chambers, the old fool Qyburn and Gregor Clegane present as well. Cersei sat at her table while they stood to either side of her. He was not even offered any wine, just told what she wanted as he stood there. Find the Golden Company in Tyrosh and bring them to Westeros. A Braavosi banker would meet him there to make the finally contract arrangements. Oh, and make it seem like they had fallen out and he was heading for home.

Qyburn made a suggestion as to how he could seem to break from Cersei. "If they are carrying what I believe they are carrying, you will have plenty of reasons to leave."

"And what would they be carrying?" he asked.

"A dead man…who can't die."

"I don't need riddles, old fool."

"Not a riddle. A wight…a thing that was once a man and is now dead…but reanimated by this Night King."

Cersei gave a dismissive snort. "The truth of their claims is yet to be seen. If they are liars then we have no need of any ruse."

Euron now thought she was the bigger fool. "They would not come all this way if they are liars."

"Nothing Tyrion says I will believe," she said. "If there is any trickery we will kill them all."

"Aye, a good plan...if she leaves her dragons home. But I think she is no fool. She will have her dragons and her Dothraki and Unsullied guards and this Jon Snow bastard…quite the fighter he is supposed to be."

"Your nephew Theon is also with them," Qyburn told him. "He is said to have survived your battle."

"Little cockless Theon?" Euron mocked. "How do you know he lives?"

"I have many sources of information."

"Well, did they tell you I am not a merchant seaman? I fight, I don't haul cargo or men and fucking elephants around."

"You will be rewarded," Cersei said. "Part of the gold from the Iron Bank is yours."

"The only gold I want is between your legs. Or is it going grey already?" Euron replied, stepping closer towards her. Clegane's massive hand went to his sword hilt and Euron gave him a grin and stopped.

Cersei looked like she had swallowed curdled milk. "You do have a way with words."

"I just want to make sure I get what I want before you are too old to give me an heir."

"Us an heir," she said.

"Of course…us."

"Will you do it?"

He laughed. "Aye. But I want more than gold."

"Name it."

"The day my ship returns is the day you marry me, not the day victory is complete, not in a month or a year or whatever. When I return."

"Done."

She said it so easily he knew she was lying, but decided not to press the point. Once he had the Golden Company, he would have more power than she did and he could dictate terms. He turned to go and then stopped. "Oh, and if your brother gets in my way, I will have to sort him out." She had nothing to say to that, but gave him a cold stare. Cunt, she loves him, Euron thought. Ser Jaime would have to die or he would never get what he wanted.

So they met those fools in the Dragonpit and he got a close look at a real dragon and its mother. A beauty she was to rival Cersei, and younger as well. But she was not yet desperate enough to think of Euron as an ally. Yet.

Faking being a man interested in only himself was easy once he saw that damn thing they had in the box. Well, he needn't fake too much, for he was only in this game for himself after all. The Iron Fleet sailed on the morning tide, bearing east for Essos, and Tyrosh. Eight days later he found the Golden Company…and more troubles began.

Tyrosh was a city built on a large island with a large natural harbor. The leaders did not want all his huge fleet docked, but fortunately the harbor was big enough for them to drop anchor away from the docks. Euron's flagship was allowed to dock and he went ashore and luckily the banker Cersei told him about was waiting and some damn fool taxes for docking had already been paid. And then more troubles began.

"The commander of the Golden Company wants half the gold to pay his men before we sail," the banker told him.

"Then give it to him."

"The trouble is that I have not yet received a writ for the loan from Braavos yet."

"You run the bank here?"

"Just so."

"Then give them what they want."

"I don't have the authority to give that much without final orders from Braavos."

Euron argued and threatened but the banker wouldn't budge, couldn't budge according to their damn fool rules. Six days passed before he got the writ and finally they were ready. Meanwhile Euron made use of his time. He needed a man to do a special task. After some questions and coins changed hands he found the man he wanted, paid the fee, and secreted him aboard his flagship. He told no one who he was or what he was hired for. That would come later.

Strickland had the Golden Company encamped ten miles from the city, as close as the city leaders would allow them. They also only allowed five of Euron's ships to dock at a time to take on food and water and give some shore leave to the men. The city leaders did not want to be overrun with drunken soldiers and sailors, but gladly accept their gold, silver, and coppers for whatever they wanted. There was also some tension as it seemed the Golden Company had broken a contract with Tyrosh, which was gearing up for another one of its regular wars with Myr.

"Not enough gold," Strickland said when he explained this to Euron. "Never signed the contract, now did I? Promises were made, true enough, and they brought us here, but unless a contract is signed, we are not obliged to fight."

"Then let's get this signed before you change your mind or they kick you off this island," Euron told him as the banker thrust the papers on Strickland's camp table in his tent.

"First the gold," Strickland said.

Euron took two hundred of his men and a dozen wagons to carry the gold from the bank to the camp. And that was only part of the payment, enough for Strickland to pay his men and keep them happy. The Iron Bank would hold the rest for the future. A small portion went to Euron as well and he gave it all to his captains to share with their crews.

Cersei was playing another mad game with the Iron Bank. She used money taken from the Tyrells to pay off past loans and now took more loans to pay for these mercenaries. How she would pay off the new loans was anyone's guess, but Euron cared less about that than getting what he wanted first.

Strickland went over the crates of gold like an old miser, seemingly ready to count every coin. The banker told Euron that Strickland had once been the company paymaster. Euron could only shake his head at the fools who would elect this man as their battle commander.

When the count seemed satisfactory Strickland read over the contract, detail by detail. He got to one part and hesitated. "This says I must fight all the Queen's enemies."

"Yes," the banker said. "It is the standard wording."

"No, it isn't," growled a man nearby, who had more of the look of a battle commander. He was tall and red haired, well armed and armored, with many golden rings on his arms. Tristan Rivers, Euron would later know him as. "We sign to fight against Daenerys Targaryen and this Jon Snow fellow and that's it. Once they are done, we are too."

The banker fussed about and then he amended the contract and all was signed. Three more days it took to put the Golden Company on Euron's ships and five fat bellied cogs to hold their twenty war elephants, siege engines, and many supplies.

The return passage was rough, with some contrary winds, and a voyage that should have taken eight days took more than twelve. He lost no ships, but over fifty men died in the rough weather, a small number compared to the count of those on board. Some fell overboard, others cracked their heads on the deck when they fell from the rigging, and more fell ill and died. The ill were all from the Golden Company, men who had no stomach for the sea, could not keep their food down, and so weakened and died. Strickland was also ill but he managed to pull through. Finally they approached the city and all did not seem well. No ships were on Blackwater Bay, coming or going, and that was the first sign of trouble. They soon found out why. The approaches to the docks by the Mud Gate up the Blackwater Rush were iced over completely. A dozen or more ships were frozen solid upriver.

Only Euron's flagship was big enough to break the ice by the docks near the Mud Gate. His huge vessel had to move on all oars at a fast clip to break the ice. He worried he might damage the ship but he had to get in and get ashore. The iron ramming prow was tough but ice was nothing to fool with. Yet the ram did the job and as soon as they docked he leaped onto the wharf as his men tied up the ship. Euron grabbed the nearest person on the road by the gate, a gold cloak, standing guard, shriving in the cold.

"What happened here?"

"A dragon, my lord. Froze everything."

"What? Don't be a damn fool, man. Dragons breathe fire."

"Not this one, my lord."

"Whose dragon? Not Daenerys Targaryen?"

"Was hers. People say the Night King killed it and made it his."

Now this was interesting. "The Queen? She lives?"

"Yes. Tower of the Hand, my lord."

Out on the bay his ships were dropping anchor. He told Strickland to stay put and not land a man till he found out what was going on.

"Can't land anyways," Strickland said. "Can't get up in this ice. Take weeks to land by barge. And not the elephants."

"Stay put," was all Euron said to him. Worrying like an old woman, he was.

Euron felt the cold enter his bones as he entered the city. A sailor was never a stranger to cold but this was something new, something foul, and he felt it seep into his very skin. Still he had to act as if nothing concerned him, and little truly did, so he boldly marched into the city as if he owned it, up the icy streets to the Red Keep. Many buildings had icy coats, though many did not. And piles of broken ice were everywhere, filling the streets. Smoke rose from many chimneys he could see but hardly a soul was about. A city of million people, but where were they?

A guard of Lannister men met him by the gates. "The Queen will receive you in her chambers, my lord," said their leader. They led him across an icy courtyard and then he went up, many flights of stairs, and by the time he reached the top he was more than a little tired and pissed off.

They were all here, her seven guards, including Clegane, and the worm Qyburn as well. She was sitting at a table laden with food and drink. The room was very warm, with a large fire roaring in a nearby hearth.

"You have returned," she said.

"Aye, and just in time for lunch," Euron replied as he walked to the table and poured himself some wine. After a taste he took a long drink, and then he sat, grabbed some bread and meat, took a bite, chewed, swallowed, and then finally looked at her. "When is our wedding?"

"In three days," she said. "If you have the Golden Company."

He smiled. The day he returned she had promised. Now it was three days. And then there would be more delays, more excuses. She would never marry him. That much was clear.

"I have them," he replied. "But there is nowhere to land them. What the fuck happened here?"

Qyburn answered. "The Night King killed one of Daenerys Targaryen's dragons. He reanimated it and now it breathes blue cold…ice, if you will."

"Bloody hell."

"Indeed. The Wall has fallen. Jon Snow and Daenerys Targaryen have joined up in Winterfell with all their forces by now. What state they are in is uncertain. The Night King attacked here over a week ago. Many died….many more fled."

"Maybe I will sail home after all."

"Do so and you will never have my hand," Cersei told him.

Euron grinned. "If I don't in three days, I am gone. Forever. The Golden Company will land after we wed." He drank his wine in one gulp, stood, and started to walk away.

The brute Clegane stepped in front of him, hand on his sword hilt. Euron gave him a steely glare. "Big man, if you do manage to kill me, I have ten thousand men on my ships that will tear what is left of this rat's nest to pieces. Including you."

That was a threat to Cersei more so than Clegane. Euron turned back to her. "Don't ever threaten me with your pet again."

"Don't ever try to leave me," she said, icy cold, the chill coming off her worse than that outside.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"Start landing the Golden Company. Now, not in three days."

So it was a game she wanted to play. He could play, too. "At once, Your Grace," he replied as her gave a mock bow and then rose. "First, I must see my niece and return her to where she belongs. Where is she?"

"She is gone," Qyburn said.

Euron gave him a glare. "Gone where?"

This time the Queen answered. "Your nephew managed to free her during the dragon attack."

"Little Theon? So, he found his balls at last. Where did they go?"

"Dragonstone or perhaps White Harbor," Qyburn answered. "The Targaryen fleet is there, as are Lord Manderly's many ships."

Euron thought and then knew what he had to do. "The wedding can wait."

"What?" she said in surprise. "Why?"

Trying so hard to sound disappointed, as if she really wanted to marry him. "I have an appointment. Two actually. You want to win the war? The Golden Company is useless here. First I will attack Dragonstone and then White Harbor."

She stared at him and then nodded. "Burn it all to the ground. Put the soldiers to the sword. Bring the rest here, especially anyone with skills, a trade. We will need them to serve the city. And we need hostages as well. Make sure Lord Manderly's family lives."

"As you command, Your Grace," he said with a roguish grin and then he left them.

Strickland was unhappy with this news. "We need to rest, get supplies. Not go to sea again so soon. And she has dragons."

"Bloody hell, man, you knew she had dragons when you signed up for this venture."

"Yes, but now you say this Night King has one too. Not what we signed up for. To fight her and Snow, not any demons."

"Fine," Euron said. "We'll stay away from them. You can rest on Dragonstone. And don't worry about dragons. Daenerys has gone north to Winterfell with all her armies and her last two dragons. Only a few hundred men will be on Dragonstone. White Harbor will be a tougher nut to crack but we have the ships and the men."

"What defenses do these places have?"

"Walls, ships, men, spears…the usual. It's time to earn your pay Harry."

He left Strickland to stew over this as he went down below and found the man he had paid. "Go ashore, find out what you can about the Queen."

"It will be done," said the man in his strange eastern accent. He was dressed as a common sailor. He was of no special description, a plain looking fellow, older than Euron but not by much. But Euron knew such men could look like who they wanted, so he was not certain of anything about him. And as Euron watched the man's face seemed to shift slightly and he looked younger, and his eyes also seemed to have changed color. "Aye, my lord, I will do you good service." Now he spoke as if he was born and raised in Westeros.

When he was gone Euron raised a flag to his highest mast, a signal for all captains to come to his ship. They arrived in small boats, landing on the stony beach where there was no ice, just outside the Blackwater Rush, and then they made their way on foot to his ship. All were there by the hour before sunset.

The meeting took place on deck where there was more room for so many. Euron told them his plans, and long they talked and decided what to do. They had enough supplies for the first part. In the morning they would sail for Dragonstone. One thing he told them. "Theon is mine to kill. Take Yara alive if you can. If not, gut her."

The next morning after sunrise the man returned. "What news?" Euron asked as he ate his breakfast in his main cabin.

"News of plenty, my lord," he began.

"Speak."

"After the dragon attack most of the people fled south. All who had wealth and means certainly did so. The Queen's army is reduced by half, some dead, some fled."

"She needs me now more than ever. What else?"

"Ser Jaime Lannister is gone, left the city almost a month ago now. Some say he argued with his sister."

"About what?"

"Her refusal to send the army north as she had promised."

"So the cunt never told her brother her plan. Maybe she hates him now."

"Maybe, or maybe not. There is another rumor. It is whispered the Queen is pregnant…and Ser Jaime is the father."

Euron grunted. "That is why she drags her feet. She has an heir already. She doesn't need me. My ships and men she needs." Then came an ideal, so wicked he had to grin. "I want you to kill it."

"It, my lord?"

"The baby…but make sure Cersei lives. I want her to feel the pain of being betrayed. Can it be done?"

"Just so. A special powder in her food, derived from a plant. Many young women of the east use it to get rid of unwanted babies. The god of death accepts all."

"Good. I will double your fee if you succeed. Now go."

He left and then Euron took his flagship out of the docks and after some hard rowing they got clear of the ice. The natural fast flow of the Blackwater Rush helped in this regard.

North they sailed, then northeast, for Dragonstone, home of the Targaryens of old. The dragon queen had her island and she could have stayed safe on it, but she was the opposite of Cersei. While Cersei sat and did nothing about the danger from the north, Daenerys Targaryen had acted. Aye, she was the woman for him. Younger, more beautiful, and not a fool. Once White Harbor was taken he would march his army to Winterfell, kill Jon Snow and the other fools, and take the dragon queen as his bride.

* * *

 **Winterfell – Arya**

Silent and still she stood outside the Queen's doors, awaiting the call for breakfast. Daenerys awoke early each morning and ate breakfast in her rooms. She always asked Arya to join her and as Arya was always hungry at this time of day she accepted. Arya awoke at an early hour, practiced with Needle, and then came to the Queen's quarters, where she dismissed the two Unsullied night guards and took up her post.

The one called Grey Worm did not like the arrangement. "You are a little girl," he said when the Queen first told him Arya's new position as they marched towards Winterfell. No sooner were the words out of his mouth than Arya had Needle at his throat and Dragonblade at his gut. Daenerys smiled and Grey Worm scowled but then he nodded his head. "You will do."

She would do…for this at least. The Hound had said something about a Queensguard and Daenerys had agreed. But all she knew of such things told her it was not for her. They served for life and did not wed or have children. And slowly Arya was beginning to think there might be more to life than taking revenge on her enemies. It was all she had thought on for years…until now.

It was Gendry, of course, and somewhere deep inside her they were back in that cave in the Riverlands, him mending Lord Beric's armor and Arya about to leave him…maybe forever. She had said those words "I can be your family" and he had said she wouldn't, she would just be 'my lady'. And it still hurt.

Of course he was right…back then. Now things were so different. Robb was gone, her mother and father were gone, Sansa was head of her house, and Arya was not a little girl anymore. She was a woman…who had never been kissed or spent a night with a man.

The Queen was late awakening and Arya worried so she opened the door a crack. "Your Grace?"

"Come in," said a quiet voice.

Arya entered and found Daenerys sitting up in her bed, still under her blankets, with her knees pulled up tight, her arms wrapped around them, and she looked like she hadn't slept much. After what Jon had told her yesterday Arya was not surprised. Daenerys first words confirmed it.

"I am not the ruler of Westeros," she said quietly.

"What? No…I mean…yes, you are."

"You know, don't you? About Jon?"

Arya nodded. "Yes."

"Who else knows?"

"Bran, Sam, Sansa…that's it. Oh, and Gilly, Sam's woman. But they won't tell anyone."

"I still don't understand it all…how can Bran see their wedding?"

"His visions…sorry, I can't explain it either. But the passage Gilly found in that diary seems to confirm it."

There was a knock and it was the serving girl with the Queen's breakfast. Arya let her in and she put the tray on the table and left. Arya waited for Daenerys to get out of bed but she stayed there.

"If it is true, then Jon should be ruler," she said. "All these years he has been the true heir to the Iron Throne. Not my brother Viserys, not me."

"He doesn't want it," Arya told her. "Told us to keep quiet about it."

"You've been trying to tell me."

"I have. But only because we need a second dragon rider."

"We do. And the dragons are responding to him like no one else. That alone tells me he has my blood."

"Good. Then it is time to get up, eat, and teach him how to fly before we all end up dead. You are still our Queen and no one will ever know different."

"I will."

"Bloody hell," Arya said and the Queen looked at her in surprise as Arya sat on the edge of her bed. "Look, what makes someone ruler? Not because they are born to it, like your father, not because they take the throne in a war, like Robert, but…"

"Because they believe they are."

"Exactly. You are the Queen because you believe you are and that does not change because of what Jon told you."

She smiled a bit. "Thank you. Your words are well said, but it does not change the fact that I am not the heir."

"If we don't win this war, none of that will matter. We need strong leaders, and we need your dragons…Your Grace."

"Yes, we do."

"And remember, you are the Queen we choose."

"Not everyone, not yet."

"They will."

"When?"

"Soon. Northerners are not like other people."

"That I certainly know. Your brother…no, sorry…"

"Yes, he is, still my brother."

"Very well. He was certainly stubborn when I asked him to bend the knee."

"But he did, eventually, right?"

"Yes."

"The rest will too. Breakfast is getting cold…Your Grace."

She sighed and then smiled. "Time to face the day."

Daenerys got up, dressed and they sat to breakfast. Arya wondered if this is what the girl Missendei would have been doing if she had not died. Arya didn't know her but by all accounts she was the Queen's closest companion for years. Maybe that was another reason she seemed so sad. But mainly because of Jon. Davos said they may be in love, but now, after what they found out, maybe that was what the true problem was. He was her nephew and she his aunt, and Arya knew Jon would see this as an insurmountable obstacle to love.

Another knock came and Arya answered the door. It was Sam Tarly…and Jon. They came in and the Queen stood.

"Good morning, Your Grace," Jon said as he dipped his head.

"Good morning," she replied and then looked away from Jon and looked at Sam, who had cast his eyes down. A raven scroll was in his hands, unopened.

"Who from?" the Queen asked.

"Cersei Lannister," Jon said. Sam thrust the scroll out, she took it, and he turned without a word and left. Jon looked pained at this act. "Sam…" But Tarly was gone.

The Queen sensed why he had acted so rudely. "You told him I killed his father and brother?"

"No," Jon said. "Only that they died in battle against you and the Dothraki. He's taken it badly. I best not tell him it all."

"I see." She held the scroll in her hand and looked at Jon. He looked at her and Arya could see the attraction they had for each other. As the silence lingered Arya wondered who would speak first so she did.

"The message, Your Grace." That seemed to break a spell between them, as if they had both been holding their breath. Daenerys sat and opened it and read.

"Gods, what a woman," she said as she finished. She handed it to Jon, who took it and read aloud. There were no titles or opening words, just a terse message.

" _You may do as you wish with my traitorous brother Jaime Lannister. The whole realm knows he killed your father and he has admitted it on many occasions. He has committed other crimes, including what happened to Brandon Stark. Please tell that little whore Sansa and whoever else still has their heads that I saw Jaime push the boy from a tower window in Winterfell. If you want to know why, ask him_."

At the end she wrote " _Queen Cersei Lannister, True Ruler of Westeros_ ," and added all her titles, an insult to Daenerys.

Arya hardly heard the end. In her mind Jaime Lannister was already dead. But she kept silent, kept her face calm, using all she learned in Braavos to control her emotions.

"Why would she write such a thing?" the Queen asked. "Does she think it will cause dissension?"

"She's evil," Arya said, calmly. "She will stop anyone who gets in her way. Including her family."

Jon was unable to control his emotions. "You can't let him take the black, Your Grace. He hurt Bran. He killed your father. He needs to die."

"I made a promise to Lord Tyrion," she replied. "I will not break it."

"Then let us try him and be done with it," Jon said. "Let him confess his crimes in front of all."

"They all want to kill him already," Daenerys replied. "I am surprised he has lived this long. No, we will wait till the war is done. If he survives, then we will deal with him."

Jon did not like it but finally nodded. "Aye."

"We have flying lessons today," she said. "I will see you at the dragons." Jon dipped his head and left. The Queen seemed to let out another breath she was holding in and sagged in her chair. "This is going to be too hard."

"Do you love him?" Arya asked.

That startled her. "What do you know?"

"Enough. Sansa does too."

"Then you know why we are in such turmoil."

"It doesn't matter if he is your nephew," Arya said. "You both didn't know that before."

"But we know it now."

"I thought Targaryens wed brother and sister."

"They did."

"So? Why not aunt and nephew?"

Daenerys sighed. "He hasn't asked. And I fear he never will…not now."

Arya had no answer to this because she knew she was right. Jon would never ask, his sense of honor too strong, what Eddard Stark had taught him running too deep to be dismissed so easily, even for the love of a woman

Arya looked at the scroll on the table. "Are you going to ask him why he pushed my brother?"

"No. That is not my affair. I leave it to you and Lady Sansa. Take the scroll and show him. And please don't kill him. If I am still your Queen then that is a royal command."

"As you command, Your Grace."

They finished breakfast and then Arya left her with Jon by the dragons, the two seeming still awkward around each other, with plenty still to discuss. She then went and found Sansa who was in the kitchens, with the Hound and Brienne nearby as usual these days. Sansa was making sure food was being cooked and distributed properly for all. Outside in the camps and wooden barracks the wildlings, Dothraki, Unsullied, and the Watch had their own cooks and eating arrangements but there were so many inside the castle it was an all day affair just preparing food. Outside the walls and camps the barricades and trenches were going up as Jon commanded. Wildling patrols on tough ponies were spread out northward, with signal fires prepared to light the moment they saw the enemy.

She took Sansa aside in the hall between the storage rooms and kitchens and showed her the scroll. "Gods," Sansa said after she read it. "Now we know. Come. We must tell Bran first."

"Yes."

"And then Lord Tyrion."

"Why him?"

"Because he is his family. We do this right, Arya. And we don't murder him. Or Theon."

Arya just looked at her, said nothing, stayed calm. "I know what you are thinking," Sansa said after a moment. "Theon saved me. You kill him, and we will never speak again."

"You would put that traitorous rat before family?" Arya asked, letting her anger seep into her words. "After all he has done?"

"You have no idea what they did to me," Sansa replied, her voice quiet. "While you were off learning how to kill and change your face, I was here, being used, by Ramsey…night…after night…after night."

Arya knew he was cruel, but now it finally dawned on her, what Sansa had been through. "I…I didn't realize."

"No one wants to realize," Sansa said, her voice breaking. "Everyone who was here knew, but they shut their eyes and ears. They were afraid. No one did anything to help me…except Theon. There are no words for what Ramsey was. What he did to me was bad, but what he did to Theon was so much worse. For months he had him, torturing him, cutting off parts…cutting off everything."

Arya knew that much, everyone did, and she was glad. "It's still not enough. He killed Ser Rodrik, his ironmen killed so many more. Maester Luwin…he taught us, he was like a second father to us. Are you just going to forget all that?"

"I will never forget. But I can't forget what he did for me in the end. Leave it be, Arya. Please."

Arya had just become one with Sansa again and knew now how much this meant to her. She finally nodded. "As you wish. But someday someone will kill him. The North remembers."

Sansa had no answer to that. "Come. We must see Bran. And then Jaime Lannister."

As they left the kitchens Brienne and the Hound followed them. "I can protect my sister," Arya said.

"We know," said Brienne. "But we have our duty as well."

"Aye, she's a killer all right," the Hound added. "How many left on the list now?"

"Some," Arya said.

"Cersei for sure," he said as they went across the courtyard. Suddenly there was the screech of a dragon and as they looked up Drogon was flying…and then so was Rhaegal…with Jon on his back, holding on for dear life.

"Gods," said Brienne. "Is that your brother?"

"Yes," said Arya and Sansa at the same time, and then they shared a look that said so much.

"How the fuck can he fly a bloody dragon?" the Hound asked.

"He can," Sansa said. "How is not important."

They continued walking towards the library where they hoped to find Bran. Off to the left across the courtyard was the forge and there was Gendry with the rest of the smiths, and Bronn and Podrick, and Tormund, and it looked like they were finally getting the dragon bolt killing machine together.

"Never work," said the Hound. "Dragons are too big."

"The Night King killed one of them," said Brienne. "So it is possible."

"None of us is that demon," he replied. "None of us has his spears."

Arya looked toward Gendry but he was too busy to notice her. Tormund was not, and he was staring at them. The Hound laughed. "Big man got it bad for you."

"Shut up," said Brienne. It was no surprise to Arya. The whole castle seemed to know.

"Fine," said the Hound. "But you best be careful."

"Why?"

"Cause them wildlings got their traditions too," he said. "They like a woman, they have to take her from her family. Proves how tough they are. Pull them right out of their tent and off into the night. If the father and sons catch him they beat him bloody, maybe even kill him. If not or he beats them, he can keep the girl."

"He can try it," Brienne said. "Then he will see how tough I am."

"Aye, that he will."

"Please wait outside," Sansa said to Brienne and the Hound as she and Arya mounted the steps to the library tower. It had been burnt, after they had left Winterfell for King's Landing, burnt twice, by the man who tried to murder Bran and later by the ironmen. But the Boltons had repaired everything, thinking they would rule forever…and now they were dead. Nothing was forever.

He was here with Sam and Gilly and their son, all of them with their noses in books, even the little boy, looking at an old picture book with dragons and other beasts.

"We need to speak to our brother, alone," Sansa said.

"Why?" Bran asked.

"It's important…please."

Sam was already rising as were his little family. "Time for little Sam's riding lesson anyway, my ladies," he said. The wildlings had taken Gilly and little Sam into their hearts and were teaching the boy all about their ways.

After they were gone Sansa handed Bran the scroll. "From Cersei Lannister." He took it, read it, and then looked at them…and said nothing.

"So?" Arya said, losing patience. "This proves it. You must remember now."

"No…I don't," he said.

"Why are you protecting him?" Sansa asked, frustration in her voice. "He tried to kill you."

"I don't remember."

"It doesn't matter," Arya said. "When he sees this he will confess."

"Yes…he will," Bran said in that cryptic way he had that was so maddening.

"What did he tell you?" Sansa demanded.

"You have to ask him. It is not my place."

They left, him, both angered. "He remembers," Arya said as they walked down the stairs. "He won't say anything because he thinks that monster made him what he is, a Three Eyed Raven. What the hell is he now?"

"Something more than our brother. Never mind. Jaime will confess."

She asked Brienne to stay with Bran and mind him. She looked taken aback for a moment and then dipped her head and went into the tower.

"I had to do that," Sansa said as the three of them walked across the courtyard. "She won't like what comes next. Sandor, do you know where Tyrion Lannister is?"

"Drunk somewhere, I suppose."

"Please find him."

"Aye, my lady."

"No…wait," Arya said. "There they are."

Jaime and Tyrion were just coming out of the septon's tower, where Jaime's cell was. He had on his sword and looked like he was going to man the wall or train. Arya's hand automatically went to Needle.

"Sandor, stay close to us," Sansa said.

"What's going on?"

"Just stay close and do as I say."

"Ah, the lovely Stark ladies," said Tyrion with a dip of his head. "Good morning."

"Good morning, my lord," Sansa said in the proper way. "We need have words with you and your brother."

"Really? Well, it is a bit cold out here, and I am a bit parched. My quarters would…"

"No," Sansa said. She looked at Jaime. "His. Sandor, take his sword."

"Ser," the Hound said as he looked at Jaime.

"Why?" Jaime asked.

"Just fucking do it," the Hound replied with a growl.

Jaime looked to Tyrion, who nodded and then Jaime undid his sword belt with his one good hand and gave it to the Hound. "There. Now you have me at your mercy," Jaime said. "An unarmed one handed man surrounded by enemies."

"Keep talking like that," Arya began. "And you won't have to worry about it too long."

"Is this my trial?" Jaime asked.

"No," Sansa said. "We have something to tell you…both. Inside…please."

Still trying to be a lady, even with this monster. It was right that Sansa was Lady Stark, not her. She would never have the patience for it.

As they walked up the stairs Tyrion talked. "If I am not mistaken I believe I saw Jon Snow riding a dragon this morning."

"You are not mistaken," Sansa said. "As for your next question, Jon's mother had some Targaryen blood."

"Indeed? Well, I should like to talk to him about family history someday. I always wondered if our family did not have a drop or two of dragon blood. The blond hair, you see. Though that trait does go back as far as our forebears, so maybe not."

"Gods, I did not miss you talking," said the Hound.

"Don't be a dour fellow all your life. Now what's this all about?"

"Wait," Sansa said.

Soon they were in Jaime's room, the five of them crowded inside. "You had better sit, both of you," Sansa told them and after a look to each other they did so, on the bed, side by side, and Sansa handed them the scroll.

"This arrived this morning…from your sister."

Jaime read it first and Arya took delight in watching his face pale. Tyrion took the scroll from his brother with impatience, read, looked at Jaime and then back to them.

"Well, our sister does have a way with words."

"Is it true?" Sansa asked Jaime.

"I will wait for my trial to give that answer," he said. "I still believe your Queen has promised me such."

"She has," Sansa said. "If you confess now, we will be more inclined to be merciful."

Jamie shook his head. "I am not sure I want to test the Stark sense of justice. Someone is killing all the people who wronged you. I am sure I am next on the list. I wouldn't want to anger anyone."

As he said this his eyes fell on Arya. "You did it," she said. "We know you did. Your sister just said you did. And then you hired some man to cut his throat while he slept so he would never tell the world the truth."

"No…he didn't," said the Hound from behind her.

"What?" Tyrion and Arya said at the same time.

"It's true," said Sansa. "Ser Jaime never hired the man…Joffrey did."

And so the Hound told a story about the man and the dagger Arya had and by the time it was done Jaime and Tyrion were in shock, and both were angry, none more so than Tyrion.

"But why?" he demanded. "Did the boy ever insult him? Harm him?"

"Not that we know of," said Sansa.

"It makes no sense," Tyrion said. "All the wars, the dead…it makes no sense."

Jaime stood and was glaring at the Hound. "You knew. You knew Tyrion was innocent, you knew the whole time and you said nothing? How many died because of that lie?"

The Hound glared back. "Littlefinger's lies, not mine. I didn't know shit till we got to King's Landing and after their mother took the Imp prisoner. Then it was too late. Your father called his banners, you attacked Ned Stark, Robert died…and everything went to shit. He was the prince…and then the king. I was nobody."

They were silent for a moment and then Arya spoke. "This changes nothing. He still pushed Bran." She looked at Sansa. "Well?"

"Ser Jaime, you are confined to this room until your trial," Sansa said. It was not what Arya wanted but it would have to do….for now.

Jaime shrugged. "So…no chance to die in battle? Fine by me. It's a bit too cold for my liking anyway."

Tyrion looked at him in exasperation. "Do not press them, brother dear. They want to see your blood…and for once I don't blame them."

Jaime looked hurt by these words and Arya was glad. Now he was in one place, and would stay here. There was no chance he would ever escape justice now. And if by some miracle they all survived and the Queen made him take the black, he would never reach the Wall alive.

The rest of the day passed uneventful. She trained, she ate, she guarded the Queen when she and Jon returned, and then she met Gendry.

They ate dinner together, with Brienne and Pod and Bronn and Sam and his family. The great hall was full, with many discussions among the high born, but Arya stood apart from all that. She and her companions were becoming a regular little group in the great hall. Bronn told outrageous stories about his life, while Pod and Brienne told stories about what they did on the road. Arya told some stories too, about the Hound, and his love for chicken, what happened to her and Gendry at Harrenhal…but nothing about Braavos…or the Twins…until this night.

Bronn looked at them all. "Okay, you all tell good stories, aye, you're all brave fighters, but who here killed the most men at one time?" He put a gold dragon on the table. "The winner gets this."

Pod started to speak. "But you…"

"Now, now Pod, let's hear all the stories first," said Bronn and Arya knew he was lying about something, but what it was she knew not. "Let's see…the smith. How about you?"

"I killed two gold cloaks at the same time with my war hammer," Gendry told them.

Bronn made a dismissive wave. "Two is nothing. Pod?"

"Just one…but he was a Kingsguard."

"Ser Mandon Fucking Moore," Bronn said.

"Why did you kill him?" Arya asked Pod.

"He tried to murder Lord Tyrion during the Battle of the Blackwater. He thinks Joffrey ordered it. Or Cersei. Never quite sure."

"It was Joffrey. Nice family," said Bronn. "Brienne?"

"Several in battle…not more than three at a time I believe. But I did beat the Hound."

"He didn't die," said Arya. "But you did kill a king."

"Two kings, way I heard it," said Bronn.

Brienne got angry. "I never killed Renly. It was a shadow, a spirit, from that damn red woman."

"Ah, but still a Kingslayer, number two," said Bronn. "You and Ser Jaime will make a nice couple." Brienne gave him a glare and left the table.

"You shouldn't do that," Pod said. "She loved Renly."

"Then give her my apologies," Bronn said without a care. "Next. Sam?"

Sam almost blushed. "Well, not too many."

"He killed a White Walker, saved us," Gilly said. "And a Thenn at Castle Black."

They all looked at Sam in surprise. "You killed a Walker?" Pod asked, not quite believing it.

"I did…with dragon glass."

"I think we have a winner," Gendry said. "A Walker has to count for more than a few. I've seen them. Nasty. Give him the coin."

"Maybe," said Bronn, and then his eyes fell on Arya. "We haven't heard from everyone yet. Lady Stark?"

"I'm not playing."

"Why not?" he asked. "I heard you're a real killer now. The Hound said you killed three men in a tavern."

"Two. He killed the other three."

"Ah, well…not enough. You see…"

"I heard it was fifty," said Sam in a rush. "Fifty Freys…at dinner…with poison."

They were all looking at her, with wide eyes, even Bronn, while Arya glared at Sam. "Well, you did, didn't you?" he asked in a meek voice

"You want to know who I killed?" she asked in an angry voice, forgetting all her training at the House of Black and White. "I killed a stable boy in King's Landing the day they took my father prisoner. I had many men killed at Harrenhal by an assassin who befriended me. I killed a Frey who helped murder my brother. I did him with a dagger in the neck. I killed the two men in that tavern. One of them had killed my friend Lommy when we were taken prisoner by the Lannisters. I killed Ser Meryn Trant in Braavos. Yes, Pod, you're not the only one to kill a Kingsguard. I took out his eyes first and then cut his neck. I killed a girl who tried to murder me in Braavos. She was a trained assassin. I did it in the dark, with a sword. I slit Walder Frey's throat open after I served him a pie with bits of his two eldest sons' bodies inside. And then I poisoned about fifty more Freys at dinner. So, do I win?"

They were all staring at her, shocked looks, even Gendry a bit, who knew most of this already…and then Bronn smiled. "Nope. I win."

"You knew you would win," said Pod with a shake of his head in disgust.

"That I did," Bronn answered with a wolfish grin.

"How?" Gendry demanded.

"It was me that fired the flaming arrow that hit the wildfire that blew up half Stannis' fleet at the Blackwater. Killed more than a few thousand, I reckon, with just one arrow. And they made me a knight for it."

No one said a word as Bronn picked his gold coin up and pocketed it. He took a long drink from his ale cup, put it down, and looked at them. "That was fun. What's next?"

"Bed," said Arya as she stood. She looked towards the head table, where the Queen was in deep discussion with Sansa and Lady Mormont. Two Dothraki stood behind her and so she needed no protection now. She looked for Jon but he as not here in the crowded hall.

She found him outside in the courtyard near the stables, staring up into the night sky, where for once for a long time there were no clouds and they could see the stars. "I always wondered what they were," he said as she joined him.

"Maester Luwin said they were balls of fire, like our sun."

"Aye, maybe so," Jon said. "I miss him."

"I miss them all."

Jon sighed. "We are all that is left."

"There is the future."

"Is there?"

"Jon…"

"Sorry. I shouldn't talk like that…but I worry…about everything."

"We have a plan."

"But is it good enough? We need more men, more oil, more arrows. He has a hundred thousand wights. If all the armies of Westeros were here it might still not be enough. Everyone that dies rises again unless we burn them."

"We will win…we must," she answered. "If not…all this will be gone."

"Aye."

"They believe in you, Jon."

"I know…and it's what worries me most."

"You are good enough. You are…"

"Who?" he asked. "Who am I?"

"Jon Snow…and always will be, like I keep telling you."

He grinned as he looked at her. "I suppose I will be. There's more Stark in me than anything else." He paused and then looked at her. "How is she taking it?"

"Badly...no, I mean...just, she feels like she isn't ruler anymore."

"Gods, I never should have told her."

"She had to know." And then Arya had to say it. "There's more to it. I think she loves you. And you her."

He sighed. "Maybe so…but it can't be."

"Why not?"

"Because we are the same blood."

"You didn't know that when you fell in love."

"I know it now."

"Time is running out."

"It is…but it's something I cannot do."

She would not press him on this, knew she should not...yet. They were silent for a few moments. "How was the dragon?" she asked.

"Magnificent…and terrifying."

"Tyrion asked how. We told him it was your mother's blood."

"Did he believe it?"

"Maybe."

Again they were silent and then Jon spoke. "Sansa says you have fallen for the smith, Gendry."

She felt her cheeks get hot. "I…I…don't know."

"That answer tells me you do know. Maybe you should take your own advice. Time is running out."

He walked back inside the great hall and she stood there and looked up at the stars and thought on his words. And then he was there, by her side.

"Are you okay?" Gendry asked.

She turned and looked at him. "What? Ah, yes. Why?"

"You seemed upset after telling about all the people you killed."

"I was upset. I didn't mean to do that. In Braavos they taught me how to control my face, my feelings, my words."

"Yes, I noticed you seem…calmer."

"What? Was I always angry before?"

"No…but not like this. Sometimes I think you have no feelings for anything anymore."

"I do!" she protested. "I…I…never mind."

"What?"

She sighed and then she knew Jon was right. Time was running out. "Do you remember the cave?"

"Yes," he answered without hesitating.

"What I said to you?"

"I can be your family."

He remembered. "And you said I wouldn't, I would only be my lady."

"And then I was gone."

"Yes."

A long silence lingered and then she asked him a stupid question but later she knew it was the right question. "Am I pretty?"

"What?"

She flushed and looked down. "Sorry…I just…Hot Pie said…"

"Yes…you are. Very…beautiful, in fact."

She felt her heart clutch tight and she looked up again. "I care for you," she said in a bare whisper.

"I care for you too…a lot."

A long silence lingered and finally she summoned the courage to speak. "I don't know what to do," she finally said.

"Neither do I."

She knew she would have to be the one to act. As if in a dream she took his hand in hers, and walked with him towards the great keep, up the stairs and into her room. They didn't say a word, but suddenly she was in his arms and their lips met for the first time, and then clothes were coming off, and they were in the bed, together, she with someone she cared about, maybe loved, and for a time all the rest of the world did not matter anymore.


	7. Chapter 7

**Game of Thrones Season 8 Chapter 7**

 **King's Landing – Cersei**

The pain came in the night. At first she thought she only needed the privy, but soon it grew excruciating. She sat up in bad, held her stomach, and feared for the life she held in her body.

"Qyburn!" she gasped to her night guards. "Get me Qyburn!"

By the time he arrived she had begun to bleed from inside, the blood soaking the bed. Tears streamed down her face. "Save my baby!" she cried out to him.

More people arrived, women, mid-wives, he said, and they stripped her naked and got to work. Medicines they gave her, to dull the pain, dream wine as well, and she drifted off, coming to now and again as a new pain stabbed into her.

And then his face was looming over her. "The baby is dying, Your Grace."

"No…please…save…"

"I cannot I am afraid. A miscarriage, but it does not seem to want to come out. I must open you up or you will die as well."

She did not understand. How could he open her up? She was not a box or a door. Then a cup was at her lips, and she tasted it and knew it was milk of the poppy. She didn't want, needed to be awake, but more stabbing pains came, and she eagerly gulped and then all went black before her eyes.

Dreams came as she lay there. First was Robert.

"The whore is pregnant!" He was drunk and raving as usual.

"I am not a whore," she protested.

He gave her a puzzled look. "Not you, damnit. The Targaryen girl. She must die."

"Yes! Kill her and her child. No one will ever take the throne from us."

"No one ever will."

Gods, why had she killed him? No, it was not her, it was Lancel, and the boar. The boar had tasted so good, like victory. He was a bad husband, but a good leader, a warrior…none of this would have happened if she hadn't killed him. He would have seen Joffrey turn into a good man, would have protected Myrcella from the Dornish, Tommen from the priests.

Her father would have as well.

"You will marry Ser Loras, have his children and put these filthy rumors about you and your brother to rest once and for all," Tywin Lannister told her in his stern way. Across the table her brother Tyrion smirked, enjoying her discomfort. She thought to hell with them both.

"They are not rumors, Father," she said in a calm voice. "All true. Jaime and I love each other. I will marry him and have more of his children."

Lord Tywin turned red and then seemed to be choking, his eyes bulging…no, it was Joffrey that choked. Tyrion, it was he who had killed her father…and her mother.

"I will end his suffering," Tyrion said and a loaded crossbow magically appeared in his hands. A bolt was fired into her father's chest and she screamed as he tumbled backwards in his chair.

"Ssshhh," said her mother. "Bad dreams."

Cersei was a child, in her own bed in Casterly Rock and her mother held her tight. Already her stomach bulged with a new child. But Cersei knew what that child would be.

"Kill it, Mother," she said. "It's a monster! Kill it or it will kill you. And Father. He will kill Father someday!"

"Now, now, my child, don't talk nonsense. Soon you will have another little brother…or maybe a sister."

"Jaime and I are twins. How can I have another 'little' brother?"

"You were first. Didn't I tell you? You came out first, the maester said, and Jaime was right behind you. You are the oldest. Someday you will be queen of all Westeros."

"Yes, I will. But I must do this to ensure I will survive."

A dagger was in her hands and she stabbed her mother in the belly, once, twice, three times. Blood was everywhere and the screams filled her ears with pain.

Silence…then a voice.

"Your Grace?"

Eyes flickered open…she was alive. A man…Qyburn.

"What happened?" she managed to say.

"I am sorry, Your Grace…the child is gone."

She gasped, tears streamed from her eyes. Pain she now felt, a dull ache from her belly. Her hands slowly moved down and she touched a heavy bandage.

He saw her do it. "Please, Your Grace. We must be cautious. There is still the risk of corruption."

"Gods, why did this happen?"

"I fear you were poisoned, Your Grace."

"Poison…no…I…how? What?"

"A flower of the east, ground into powder, often placed in food to dull the taste. Traces of it we found in your supper dishes from last night. Hadn't been washed yet, fortunately. Prostitutes in the Free Cities are known to take it when they get pregnant. They do so at an early stage, and there is nothing amiss except some slight pain and heavy bleeding for a day or two. In your case, you were too far along, and the child would not come out. I had to take him from you womb. Touch and go, but you will pull through."

"Him?" Cersei gasped.

"Yes, a son, Your Grace."

She could not take anymore and waved him away.

She slept, awoke, slept, felt water being touched to her lips, then something sweet, honey. She awoke. A young blond girl was standing over her, holding a spoon with honey on it

"Qyburn," Cersei said, her throat parched, the words barely a squeak.

"She's awake, my lord!"

The girl stepped back and Qyburn came to her. In his hands was a glass with something purple in it. "Dream wine," he said. Behind him she could see Ser Gregor, standing by the door, silent as always.

"No…no more sleep. Help me."

They propped her up on two pillows, the pain in her stomach still there, feeling as if little claws were digging into her flesh. She grimaced and bore it, no worse than when she had given birth…and at that thought it all came crashing back.

"My son is gone."

"Yes, Your Grace."

"Where?"

"In my rooms. I have been examining him."

"He will be buried, today, with all honors."

"Of course, Your Grace. For such a ceremony he should have a name, don't you think?"

"Tywin, Prince of Westeros." She and Jaime had agreed on that much. If a son, after their father, if a girl, after their mother.

"A fitting name, Your Grace."

"Water," she said and a glass was brought by the girl. She drank it down quickly.

"Slowly," Qyburn cautioned but Cersei was very thirsty.

"Food," she said next.

"Just some honey for now."

"And bread."

"Yes, that would be safe."

She ate the bread and honey and felt her energy coming back. When done she stared at him and he knew she was still in the game. "Report."

"The war…"

"No. Who did this to me?"

"Uncertain."

"Not good enough."

"I am investigating, Your Grace. There is only one clue so far. A young man who worked in the kitchens is missing. Not in his quarters, not anywhere to be found. He was here the day you took ill, and after that he disappeared."

"Why would he do this?"

"I am not sure. He has no connection with you. And in fact, this flower is so rare in the west I think it is impossible for him to obtain it. I have been asking around the local apothecaries and none that still remain have it in stock. It must have come from the east."

And then she knew. Who had just come from the east? Who would benefit from her losing her baby? Who wanted to marry her and have his heir?

"Euron."

"It had occurred to me."

"It had to be him," she said, her anger growing. "He paid this man or somehow…"

"Replaced him," Qyburn said.

"What?"

"Another theory, Your Grace. In the east are the Faceless Men. Have you heard of them?"

"Yes. Assassins. But I am not dead."

"You were not the target. The baby was."

Now she felt anger boiling up in her, a rage so thick she could hardly speak. Finally the words came out.

"Ser Gregor!"

He marched over and stood by her bed. "Ser Gregor, your Queen has been attacked. You will find Euron Greyjoy and you will bring me his head. He should be on Dragonstone. Qyburn will provide you with a ship and men to assist you. Do this and I will be eternally grateful."

He merely dipped his head to indicate he understood.

Qyburn had some protests. "Your Grace, even if he did this…"

"He did. No one else had motive or opportunity."

"Yes…but…do we not need him and his ships?"

"His ships, yes, him, no."

"I fear if he dies the ironmen will seek out Yara and Theon Greyjoy as their new leaders."

"He killed my son!"

"My apologies. Of course he must die."

"Good." But she knew he was right in his thoughts. "Yes, you will go with Ser Gregor. To Dragonstone. Once Euron is dead you will impress upon the iron captains that any betrayal will be severely dealt with in the future. And remind the Golden Company leaders who has paid them. I am sure they can handle the ironmen if they cause any trouble."

"Of course, Your Grace. We will go at once."

"After my son is buried."

"As you wish. I must prepare. I will leave instructions for your care. I will fetch Ser Gregor when I am ready to sail."

When he was gone Ser Gregor took up his place by the door. She ordered the young girl to keep her mouth shut about what she had just heard and to get her some proper food. She made sure the terrified girl tasted it first before she ate it.

And then she thought, mainly on all the failings and mistakes that had brought her to this point. As her mind drifted, she wondered what Jaime would say when he knew one more child of theirs was dead. But then she remembered what she had written to Winterfell. By now they would have received it, and if Jaime did not hate her before, he certainly would now. She was all alone in the world now, and she feared time would run out before she had killed all those who had wronged her. Euron would be the first, but not the last.

* * *

 **Winterfell – Jon**

They finally had the talk he was dreading, by the dragons, out in the snow far up the Kingsroad where they had landed. It was the day after he had that talk with Arya in the courtyard, where she told him time was running out, and he had said the same to her about Gendry. The next morning Arya was late to take her duties as the Queen's escort, which was unusual. Jon had arrived at the Queen's quarters to discuss dragon training and the two Unsullied night guards were still there. As he was about to knock Arya came up the stairs and down the corridor in a rush.

"Bit late, are we?" Jon said.

"What? Not too much. Am I?"

"It doesn't matter."

"I…I slept in."

The two guards left and then Jon knocked on the Queen's door. "Come in," came the reply.

He and Arya walked in together and she was already eating breakfast. "Oh…I didn't expect you so soon," Dany said to Jon.

"Sorry, Your Grace. I thought we could fly again this morning."

"We shall." Then she looked at Arya. "Did you eat yet?"

"No, Your Grace. Famished."

"Sit, please."

As Arya sat Dany looked back to Jon. "What news?"

"Nothing much," he said. "Some of the wounded died in the night. We already burned their bodies. Patrols report no signs of the enemy. There has been no news from White Harbor for some days now. I'm a bit worried. We should have had a raven reply to our granting the Greyjoys the use of the fleet by now."

"Do you think the Night King went there?" Arya asked, her mouth full of bread and cheese.

"Maybe," Jon said. "I'm thinking we should fly there, see what we can. We could be there and back in less than a day."

Dany sat back, thinking, and then nodded. "Yes. But are you ready?"

"Just hang on and follow you. Rhaegal knows what to do."

"But if we run into trouble, can you command him?"

"I know the words. Let's just hope he listens."

"He will in time."

"Why do you call the dragons 'he'?" Arya asked. "How do you if it's a he or a she?"

"We don't," Dany replied. "Lord Tyrion claims all dragons are neutral gendered…which means they are neither male nor female."

"Then how do they have sex?" Arya asked and Jon and the Queen looked at each other and he could see she flushed and he had to look away.

"Ah…they don't," said Dany, her voice strained. "Not as far as we know."

"That's too bad," Arya said as she drank some wine. "So how do the eggs get made and laid?"

"Full of questions today," Jon said.

"I just want to know," she protested.

"Lord Tyrion said it is a natural process," Dany told her. "They make the eggs in their bodies and then lay them."

"That's no fun," Arya said and then they both stared at her. "Well…I mean…never mind."

"As to your first question," Dany said. "I call them 'he' because I named them for my brothers and my late husband, who are all dead now."

When she said this she looked to Jon as if she had done something wrong. "I'm sorry. He was your father as well as my brother."

"I never knew him," Jon replied. "As far as I am concerned, Eddard Stark was my father."

"Yes…I understand."

"I don't mean any offense, Your Grace," Jon quickly said. "Just…until a week ago I never knew any of this. And I'm still finding it hard to believe."

"So am I."

There was another awkward silence and then Jon dipped his head. "I'll meet you at the dragons, Your Grace."

He left quickly. Every conversation and meeting with her was full of strain now. It was giving him headaches. As he crossed the courtyard came one more headache, Lord Tyrion.

"Not today," Jon said impatiently.

"I must have a word."

"You had many words last night." After he had left Arya last night and had gone back into the great hall Tyrion had cornered him to talk about Ser Jaime. Nothing came of it, except Jon's growing desire to be done with politics and get on with the war. Sometimes he almost wished the Night King would attack so the waiting would be over.

Jon stopped and looked around. As always the castle was jammed with people going about their duties. It was getting so a man could hardly think anymore and it was hardly the place to have words with Tyrion. But he knew the man would not wait. "If it's about your brother again, save your breath," Jon told him. He could sense people around them listening.

"Not about Jaime, not now anyways. It seems there is no denying what we all know now."

"Fair enough. He will get his trial, he will have his say and then…"

"Then one of you noble Northmen…or women…will cut his throat."

"Aye, maybe so. But it won't be me. You can trust me on that point."

"I do. Perhaps you can persuade the rest as well."

"I thought you said this wasn't about him?"

"Forgive me…he is my brother, after all. And I have so few relations left. You surely understand that."

"Aye." Just then the Queen and Arya began to walk towards them. "I have dragon training today."

"Yes, quite remarkable. A bastard son of a Northern lord knowing how to fly a dragon. What is even more remarkable is that said dragon let you near it without roasting you alive."

"Sansa told you my mother has Targaryen blood."

"Yes. But who would that be? I have been racking my brain all night and I cannot quite place her. The Baratheon's have dragon blood through Robert's grandmother. If the smith Gendry flew I would not be so surprised. Yes, I know whose son he is. The Queen wants to make him lord of Storm's End after all and the boy does take after his father. As did you…or so I thought. So how can your mother be a Targaryen?"

"Not a Targaryen, but with their blood. Some at least."

"True, the Targaryens did not always wed brother and sister. There are traces of their linage in more than a few families beside the Baratheons. But not so pure anymore, like watered wine. No other family has such direct connections of blood except for a few smallfolk on Dragonstone. Did your father ever visit Dragonstone?"

Jon didn't know what to say and then the Queen and Arya were there. "Lord Tyrion," Dany said.

"Your Grace, good morning. Flying today?"

"Yes. Jon needs more training."

"Good, good. Remarkable, isn't it?"

"What is remarkable?" Dany asked.

"I was just saying to Jon…"

"Leave it be," Jon said, taking a step towards him, not meaning to do so but in a threatening manner.

"Who was your mother?" Tyrion asked. "A simple question."

Now it was Arya that stared at him in such a way. "He said leave it be. Best you do so."

Now Tyrion looked at Dany. "It seems you know as well. A secret has been shared. I am your Hand, Your Grace. How can I serve you if you keep secrets from me?"

"This is not my secret," Dany replied. "As they said, leave it be."

Tyrion seemed about to argue when Maester Wolkan appeared with a raven scroll in hand. "From White Harbor, Your Grace," he said as he handed it to her, unopened. Dany quickly opened it and read.

"Good news at last," she said and then handed it to Jon.

"The fleet is preparing to sail," Jon said. "To attack Euron Greyjoy. Varys says he has returned with the Golden Company." Then Jon read the rest and felt his anger rising.

"Let me see, if you would," Tyrion said impatiently and Jon handed it over. Tyrion read and then got a puzzled look on his face. "He did not land the soldiers? Why not? He…wait. What's all this about Melisandre of Asshai and eight hundred soldiers?"

"Help, for us," Dany said with a smile.

But Arya had a different reaction. "That witch?" she said in anger. She snatched the scroll from Tyrion's hand as he gave her an exasperated look. "She's in White Harbor? And she wants to come here?" Arya said in disbelief.

"No, she can't," Jon said right away as Tyrion snatched the scroll back. "I told her if she ever came to the North again she would die."

Arya seemed pleased. "Good. It's about time."

"Why? What has she done?" Dany asked Jon. "She had nothing but praise for you when I met her on Dragonstone."

That took Jon aback. "She was there? When?"

"Before you arrived," Tyrion told him. "In fact, it was she who convinced us to request your visit."

"I still don't understand," Dany said looking from Jon to Arya. "How has she offended you both?"

"She kidnapped Gendry," Arya told her. "Took him to Dragonstone and would have killed him if Ser Davos hadn't freed him."

"Why did she take him?" Tyrion asked.

"His blood," Arya said. "Something about…oh…I…"

"He knows," Dany told her. She looked back at the maester. "He does as well."

"A king's blood," Tyrion said. "Or at least his son's. Full of magic, I suppose?"

"Yes," Arya said. "She used leeches to take it out of him, burned them on a brazier and then…she…" But Arya hesitated.

Jon knew why, knew the story from Arya soon after Gendry had arrived and he told her. "Tell them the rest."

"She said the names of three kings when she burned the leeches…Joffrey, Balon Greyjoy…and Robb."

"And then all three died," said Tyrion. "Interesting."

"A coincidence," said Dany. "Not magic."

"Possibly," Jon said. "But that's not why I banished her. I didn't know that then. She's done worse. She burned King Stannis' daughter Shireen alive."

"Gods," said Dany in shock. "Why would she do such a monstrous thing?"

Jon noticed Tyrion give the Queen a puzzled look as Jon answered. "She thought her blood could be used in some magic ritual to stop the snows and save Stannis' army. When I banished her she told Davos and me that the girl's parents agreed to the act. All a waste, for it did no good. The Boltons crushed them. But she escaped."

"Not anymore," Arya said.

Dany looked to Tyrion. "You knew none of this when she was on Dragonstone?"

"No, Your Grace. I was with you in Meereen when all this happened. As was Varys, though he could have learned of it since our return."

"We shall have to ask," Dany said.

"What answer will we give White Harbor?" Tyrion asked them both.

Dany hesitated and then Jon spoke. "Put her in chains to await justice."

"Yes," Arya said with relish.

"And what of these eight hundred soldiers of the Fiery Hand?" Tyrion asked. "They will not take this lightly."

Jon knew they would be a problem. "No, they will not. Strong warriors we need on our side, not as enemies."

"It is a dilemma," Dany said. "We could fly there to deal with her but I do not want to leave our main force here unprotected."

Tyrion agreed. "We certainly can't do that. Well, if the battle is to be here, perhaps we should let them come here. Once Melisandre is in Winterfell…who knows what will happen?" He let his eyes drift to Arya who merely nodded her head.

"No," said Jon right away. "I will not murder her, no more than I will your brother. She will have her say."

Dany had a better idea. "These followers of the Lord of Light are said to have great powers," she began. "In the east they are feared and respected."

"For good reason," said Tyrion. "Varys and I met one in Meereen. She was quite something. Frightened Varys half to death by describing something from his past that only he knew. Yes, they are formidable. And they do love fire, which our enemies hate."

"Indeed," said Dany.

Arya was not pleased. "Gods, first Jaime and now this witch? Are we ever going to have justice?"

"In time," Jon said to her. "I want what you want. But we need to defeat the true enemy first. Lord Tyrion, write to Varys. Tell him to send them on to Winterfell."

"At once," Tyrion replied and off he went to the rookery with Maester Wolkan.

Dany looked to Arya with sympathy. "I understand your hatred for her. Both of you. Such crimes should not go unpunished." Then she looked back at Jon. "I am surprised she is not already dead. Why did you banish her? Why did you not execute her when she confessed her crimes?"

Jon hesitated. "She…she did good service for us before this happened. I felt I owed her…so I banished her."

"I see."

"Davos will not be pleased she is back," Jon said.

"Why not?" Arya asked. "Gendry told me he wants her dead as well. Once she is here no way she leaves again."

There was nothing more to say. Arya went off to the forge while Jon and Dany went on their flying lesson.

It was exhilarating and frightening but he was getting used to Rhaegal and the dragon to him. Up the Kingsroad they went, she leading him, making turns going up and down, and he followed at first but then they started to separate, making wide circles and then joining at a central point, passing by each other. When they had left the castle she told him he had to make Rhaegal breathe fire today. So down he went along the road, and he shouted the command, " _Dracarys_!"

The sudden build up in heat under him was surprising but not as much as the explosion of flame and heat that came from the dragon's mouth. As they flew forward hot air came back…but Jon found it did not bother him at all. Down below a long streak of blackened ground surrounded by melting snow and pools of water were left behind.

"Very good," Dany said after they landed on the left side of the road. Rhaegar seemed to be almost purring as Jon rubbed his snout, smoky trails emerging from his wide nostrils.

Jon said nothing, realizing it was the first time they had been alone since the other day when he told her the truth. Instinct told him to shut up but he had to say it. "I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"Everything. I didn't know, I…I never would have started anything with you if I had known"

"Stop…please."

Her voice was choked up and she would not look at him…and then he knew she was weeping. He felt bad, wanted to comfort her…and finally stepped towards her and put a hand on her shoulder. She reached back and took his hand and then spun around quickly and kissed him, hard…and he fell into it and could not stop, did not want to stop…ever.

Finally she broke the kiss and held his hands. "See," she said, her face streaked with tears. "The sky did not fall down, the earth did not tremble, the world did not break. Yes, we may share some blood, but it does not mean we do not belong to each other."

"No…it doesn't," he could not help but agree. He held her close in his arms and she put her left hand on his chest…where he had been stabbed by Ollie.

"Jon…I need the truth."

"Aye," he said knowing what she wanted.

"Why did you banish the red woman, not execute her?"

"She saved my life."

Dany stepped back and looked at him. "How?"

He sighed heavily. "My brothers in the Night's Watch betrayed me. I let the wildlings through the Wall and they conspired to murder me because of it."

"She stopped them?"

"No."

"But…you stopped them?"

"No…no one stopped them…they stabbed me…many times. Davos said I was stabbed in the heart. I was…and I died."

She was staring at him in disbelief, the same look Sansa had given him when he had said the same thing at Castle Black to her. "You didn't die. You are alive," Dany said, the confusion clear in her words and on her face.

"I did die…and Melisandre brought me back from the other side. That's why I did not execute her."

"That's impossible," she said in a bare whisper.

"Aye. But here I am."

And so he explained, and she listened, and when he was done she still struggled to believe and so did he.

"I still don't understand it," Jon said. "No one does. Six times Thoros brought Beric Dondarrion back from the dead and he never understood it either."

"It seems there is more to this Lord of Light than we know," Dany said. "And her."

"Yes…but it does not erase her crimes. She murdered a girl, and more from what Davos says. She burned some nobles on Dragonstone, including Selyse Baratheon's own kin, when they refused to follow the ways of the Lord of Light."

"That we cannot have in Westeros," Dany said forcefully. "There will be religious freedom for all."

"Agreed. Squabbling over it would only bring more blood and pain. Soon she will be here and in time we will deal with her."

* * *

 **White Harbor – Varys**

Melisandre was gone, and Varys was glad. She insisted on leaving before any answer came back to Vary's letter to Winterfell asking what to do about her.

"Jon Snow will tell you to hold me here," she said. "But that will only serve the Night King. I must be in Winterfell when he comes."

Varys would not stop her and Ser Wylis wanted her gone as well, his people already complaining about their night fires and strange ways. "Lord Snow will kill her," he said. "Let it be done in Winterfell, not here."

Two days later, all eight hundred warriors of the Fiery Hand and twenty priests and priestesses left with her, marching along the frozen White Knife towards Winterfell with many horse drawn sleds carrying their supplies. Varys did not try to stop her, for her destiny lay in the North, she had said, and who was he to argue with that. He knew what powers she had, her kind had, and he knew that the world was not as practical as people thought or without influence from beyond. He knew because he had heard that voice in the fire so many years ago when he had been unmanned…and he knew because the words spoken had been directed at him.

But Varys had no time to mull over all that. More problems arose, when the answer came from Winterfell regarding the fleet. Ser Wylis Manderly was given the command and right away Yara Greyjoy fought against it.

"How many battles have you won at sea?" she demanded of Ser Wylis while they gathered in his father's solar after the message arrived.

"None," he said. "I seem to recall you lost your last one and were taken prisoner as well."

"At least I have fought in a sea battle. Have you?"

Ser Wylis uneasy look gave the answer. "Fuck," said Theon. "I think I will stay here."

"As you wish," said Wylis. "I have no need of cockless cowards in my fleet. Or traitors."

Theon gave him a nasty look. "I hope your scorn for me comforts you when your bones lie on the sea floor."

"Friends, friends," Varys said in his most mollifying tone. "We must agree before you sail or all will be lost."

"I should be in command," Yara insisted.

"Never," Ser Wylis insisted. "Half the fleet was built by my family."

"And half belongs to the Queen, our ally, who gave us her ships," Yara retorted.

"With me in command!"

"This is not doing any of us any good," Varys said. "I have a possible solution." No one said anything so he continued. "Ser Wylis has overall command and control of the White Harbor ships while Yara and Theon command the Queen's ships."

Yara nodded. "That would give us some flexibility."

Wylis looked at her, puzzled. "What?"

"Flexibility," Theon said, seeing what his sister meant. "We can strike Euron from two directions, or bait him and draw him into a trap."

"Aye," said Yara. She looked at Varys. "Where is he now?"

"The last report said King's Landing, with the Golden Company, but he did not land them before he sailed away the next day. This news is four days old." His friend in Duskendale, who got reports from inside the city, was the source.

A map was on the table and Yara grabbed it and turned it around. "Here is where they will be," she said, her finger pointed at Dragonstone. "Euron will attack here. He knows the Queen left with most of her army. Easy pickings he will think, and so will Cersei. Weaken our forces while the demons attack in the North. But that castle will not fall so easily." Her finger traveled up the map to White Harbor. "We'll be next for Euron."

Ser Wylis snorted. "Let him try. Our defenses will stop him."

Theon shook his head. "I doubt it. He has hundreds of ships and an army now."

"Mercenaries," Ser Wylis said with a scoffing sound.

"Trained, experienced soldiers, killers all," Yara retorted. "The only way to stop them is at sea. I've never seen a man in armor swim for long."

"Could be," Wylis agreed and then he gave them a glance and showed he had some sense after all. "How? Where?"

"Here," Yara said. "Between Old Castle and the Sisters." She pointed to a place where the mainland and the group of three islands called the Sisters were close together near the mouth of the White Knife firth that White Harbor was built on. "A narrow waterway, where his numbers won't count. He'll be dragging those soldiers with him, a burden he must protect. We wait in ambush, like he did to us. Only this time surprise will be on our side."

She looked at Wylis who nodded. "Let's us call the captains."

Off they went, and Varys relaxed for the moment, glad that was done with. He was no sooner back in his rooms the Manderly's had generously provided then a raven scroll was brought to him. "From Lord Tyrion Lannister," said the maester.

Tyrion was writing in the Queen's name telling him to send Melisandre and her people on to Winterfell. As he had already done. He thought they might order her arrested, but perhaps the presence of her small army made them think twice about that. That was a worry for Varys and another reason to send them hastily on their way. Jon Snow wanted her dead, then let him do it in Winterfell as Ser Wylis suggested. Varys was sure two dragons, Unsullied, Dothraki, and the rest could handle eight hundred men.

Varys knew why Jon wanted her dead. The people of White Harbor made sure he knew. Stannis' red woman had killed Stannis' daughter they had told him when Melisandre arrived. Burned her alive was the rumor. That's why Jon Snow banished her. Still, her and her warriors would serve better in Winterfell. And if Jon Snow killed her it was out of his hands. But he had to tell the Queen the truth of things. She had threatened him once already and Varys knew he would not look good all roasted and scorched by dragon fire. He took parchment and ink, wrote out a letter, and took it to the rookery, but only one fresh bird for Winterfell remained and so he did not send the letter, in case they needed the bird for something more important. The just returned raven was fed and rested for they might need it soon again as well.

The fleet sailed two days later, seventy-five ships, not near enough to challenge Euron's hundreds, but it would have to do. The people of White Harbor sent them off with great fanfare, and more than a few tears were shed as people said goodbye to those they loved.

The next day a raven arrived from Dragonstone from the Unsullied commander. The Queen had left a few hundred Unsullied to man the castle. By now they were either under siege or all dead. A few brief words, in broken Common Tongue, " _Attacked. Many ships, men. Sea monster ships. We hold_." Yara had been right. The message was four days old. Varys would have said a prayer for them but he was not a religious man. He wrote of this news and sent it off to Winterfell. One bird now remained for the Stark's home.

No sooner had he done so than bells began to ring, from the towers of the many septs in the town. Such a clamor of noise he had heard once before, when Stannis' fleet had attacked the capital. Varys and the maester went to the rookery balcony and looked out towards the sea, expecting Euron's fleet…but the sea was empty except for a few fishing boats out on the firth and the many ships in the harbor. No, it couldn't be Euron's fleet…four days was not near enough time to sail from Dragonstone to White Harbor, even if he just dropped off the Golden Company and sailed on right away, which was doubtful.

And then he knew.

Varys raced to the other side of the rookery where the maester was now standing. "What is it?" the maester asked, pointing towards the nearby forest.

The landward side of White Harbor had high walls, then a stretch of open ground, before the beginnings of the forest. And now from said forest was a growing mass of whiteness, moving forward towards the walls of the town. Varys felt his heart catch, for he knew what this was, from the stories Jon Snow told them about Hardhome and what happened when they captured the wight.

He turned back into the rookery where all the birds were…and there was the single one left for Winterfell.

"Quickly, we must warn Winterfell," he shouted to the maester. They wrote a hasty note, sealed it and sent the bird aloft.

It flew up, into the sky and was just reaching the forest when suddenly a great shadow appeared in the cloud of whiteness…and out came the dragon.

Ice, it looked like to Varys, pale white, and on its back was him, the one they called the Night King.

"Oh, dear," was all he could think to say.

The great maw of the beast opened and out shot a cone of blue, striking the raven in mid-flight. When the cone disappeared there was something falling, small and ice covered, and Varys could only guess it was the raven, frozen solid.

Down below the walls were manned and ready, and Varys knew many of the White Harbor soldiers and the thousand Unsullied that had been left behind had dragon glass weapons. But the dragon did not come close enough. It had landed out in the snowy field between wall and forest. A few stones from catapults were flung in the air, landing near but not hitting the dragon.

Then it let out a great roar. Varys could not help but shiver as that roar engulfed the town. Down below in the streets was panic…and most of the running people were heading for the harbor. Varys knew he should run too but he had to see what would happen.

The dragon flew up and closer and then let loose another blast of cold power, this time directed at the walls. A great swath of the central section by the main gate he struck, encasing it in ice.

And then from behind the great dragon a horde of wights and White Walkers appeared, walking slowly out of the forest. And then they stood…waiting.

Varys thought the dragon would engulf the town in ice like it had King's Landing. But no, the Night King had another plan and it now dawned on Varys. He needed fresh soldiers for his army. He wanted the people to die, but remain intact, not frozen and shattered.

And then a massive new shadow loomed out of the forest…two in fact, giants they were, each carrying a massive tree trunk as a club. They raced forward at a run and hundreds of arrows came at them. Many stuck in their heavy fur clothing or bounced off. But one must have struck home and had been dragon glass for suddenly one of the giants halted and let loose a terrible groan and then fell to the snow, appearing dead. A great cheer went up from the walls, but the joy did not last long

The other giant was not stopped. It reached the frozen main gate and with a mighty swing of its club it shattered the ice, the stone under it, and the metal doors and portcullis of the gate. Some brave Unsullied warrior on top of the gate stayed at his post as the rest ran. He put a dragon glass spear in the wight giant's left eye. As the gate collapsed and the warrior and the giant fell in its shattered remains, the undead army was already running forward.

"Time to go," Varys said and he and the maester ran down the stairs.

Outside was chaos. The town held maybe twenty-thousand people, a mere drop compared to King's Landing, but it seemed they were all heading for the harbor. Men, woman, and children, nobles and smallfolk, all had only one thing in mind, flee the dreaded enemy. Ships were in the harbor, of all types and sizes, mainly fishing and merchant, rowed and sailed, but it would surely not be enough for everyone.

Varys saw Ser Wylis' wife Leona with their two daughters, Wynafred and Wylla. She was standing by the entrance of the main castle, looking back towards the walls. "My lady, I fear the defenses have collapsed," Varys told her.

Leona's face paled. "Already? But the walls, the gates?"

"Have been breached, my lady," the maester informed her. "We must flee."

"The people need us here."

"Mother, we must go!" one of her girls insisted.

So they went, to a large ship, one which Ser Wylis had specifically left behind for his family. Lady Leona insisted that they take as many as they could and after some time the ship was full. They cast off, the rowers pulling hard at their oars and soon they were out in the firth with many more ships.

Behind them they saw the end. Unsullied and White Harbor men formed a line between the main castle and town and its wharves but the wights were overwhelming them by sheer numbers. People fleeing to the wharves were also run over by the demons. The Unsullied and soldiers that remained fought hard but there were just too many for them. Demons did die, but not enough to matter.

And then the dragon flew over their heads and rained down death on the ships. Four times it passed overhead and the cold reached out for those who thought they were safe. Two ships were frozen solid and others received partial strikes. Vary's ship was not spared but only received a partial hit on the port side. Still dozens died, frozen solid, the ship being packed so tight with those trying to flee it was impossible for people to avoid the cold blast. Some did, by jumping into the sea, and their shouts grew quiet after some time, for there was no turning back for any rescue of these few unfortunates. When the dragon attacked people screamed and shouted and Varys feared it was the end, but then the dragon was gone back to the town, which was falling behind them, and for now at least they seemed safe.

The next day they found refuge at Old Castle near the mouth of the firth, where Lord Ondrew Locke took them in. The Lockes were under House Manderly and so all knew each other well enough. Here they also meet the Greyjoys and Ser Wylis, their ships waiting for a sign of Euron Greyjoy.

"Less than five thousand," an ashen Ser Wylis told Varys when he asked the final count of those who were saved. "Our people and home are gone. What can stop these demons?"

"We must now place all our hope in the Queen and her dragons," Varys said.

He then told them the news of Dragonstone being attacked over five days ago. Yara smiled. "Good. Soon he will come this way."

"What's the point?" Ser Wylis said. "If he wants White Harbor he can have what's left. And may the demons do us a favor and kill him."

"That will not do," said Varys. "For everyone that dies a new soldier rises in his army."

Yara did not like it one bit either. "Euron is mine to kill. We attack as soon as our scouts spot his ships."

* * *

 **Dragonstone – Euron**

"We can't do it," Harry Strickland complained to Euron. "The Targaryens made this castle. The walls are made of volcanic rock. We can't burn it. The walls are too high as well. And there is no room for siege lines or anyway to get our siege engines up there."

Stuck he was on Dragonstone and a more dreary place Euron had rarely seen. The island was rocky and smelled of ash and smoke. The large volcano stuck up into the cloudy sky behind the castle. Parts of the island were lush, and had goods farms and many small folk, for volcanic ash was good soil for crops. But not here, not near the castle. Here it was dark and dreary and stinking.

To make matters worse was the castle itself. Strickland was right about all he had said. It sat on a rocky mesa, surrounded by sheer drops on all sides, with the volcano behind it. The only way to approach the castle was up a long stone walkway, narrow enough for only two men to march. The walkway had a gate and walls by the beach where they landed but strangely these were unguarded. Up they went to the main gates along the narrow walkway and no sooner had they approached the castle than a rain of arrows sent them running back to the lower gates. Two men were dead and five wounded and they had accomplished nothing.

"Tell them we will give them quarter if they surrender," he told Strickland. "If not, they all die when we breach the gates."

"If we breached the gates," Strickland replied in his worrying way. Euron wanted to punch him in the face and be done with him but stayed his wrath.

"I saw them on the walls. They are Unsullied," said Tristan Rivers. "They will never surrender. And we will never take this castle."

"I hate dealing with cockless men," Euron growled. "They have nothing to live for. I bet they all want to die."

"They do," said Rivers. "With our blood on their spears."

Two days they were here, setting up camp on the beach before the lower gates, looking over the castle, trying to find a way to attack it. The soldiers of the Golden Company were glad to be off the damn ships at last, as he heard more than one say. The water near the beach was too shallow for heavy barges with the elephants and siege engines and horses. Down the coast the five heavy cogs went, where they found a fishing village with enough room for two ships to berth at their wharves. Then over the hills they dragged the siege engines, though they would not do any good here. Their horses and elephants moved to more lush ground to feed, and bands went roaming over the island in search of food and fodder to supplement their supplies. Winter had come to Westeros but had hardly touched the island yet, for no snow was on the ground anywhere. Still, it was bitterly cold and more men were set to hewing wood for fires wherever they could find it.

Most of his men stayed on board ship, for the beach was crowded with the Golden Company. They also had to be ready to sail in case of an attack. His niece and nephew were out there somewhere and maybe had a fleet of their own now. Euron wanted this business over with so he could go back to sea, but it seemed the castle would not fall so easily as he had first thought. He had never been here and knew nothing of the castle's defenses. I bet that bitch Cersei knew, and hoped I died here, he thought. She would never marry him. Perhaps he should have told the assassin to kill her as well as her baby.

"So, now what?" Strickland asked as the commanders meet in a pavilion set up on the beach.

"You're the bloody soldier, Harry," Euron told him. "Deal with it."

"It's impossible," Rivers said and they all agreed.

Euron knew he was right. A waste of time. "Let's sail."

"We need to rest," Strickland said.

"So do our horses and elephants," Rivers added.

Euron fumed but agreed. He worried White Harbor would be as difficult and he needed every man. "Right. We rest here for three more days, and then we sail and take White Harbor." He could almost see Harry turning green when he said this.

While Harry and his commanders fretted Euron went off with some of his men to a nearby village. They had slayed the men and now had ten women and girls for their pleasure. He spent his days here, enjoying himself, taking a woman when he pleased, drinking, and relaxing. He had been saving himself for Cersei but the whore kept her legs squeezed tight and now he knew why. She was carrying the Kingslayer's baby. But not for long.

Each day one of his men came to tell him the news, which was not much. Nothing new was happening. The weather stayed cold and it even rained one day, but no snows came. At the end of the third day in the late afternoon one of his men came at a hurry. "Ship's arrived, my lord. From King's Landing."

"Who is it?"

"The Queen's man Qyburn. He's talking to the Golden Commander commanders, and your captains who are on the beach."

"Get the rest."

Ten more men were with him and all twelve now went back to the beach. When they came over the hills towards the beach a disturbing sight greeted him. Rowboats were making for the ships, his ships, out on the bay. In each rowboat were many men, his men.

"Where the fuck are they going?" he yelled but no one had an answer.

They arrived at the beach camp where a large group of men were standing nearby Strickland's pavilion. None was iron born. As Euron looked back to the sea he saw all the ships making sails including his own flagship. Out there was a ship with the Lannister colors on its flags but the iron born ships were ignoring it as they sailed away.

Qyburn was there, with the monster Clegane by his side and about twenty Lannister guards. Strickland, Rivers and the other commanders were there as well.

"What the fuck is going on?" he demanded, his question directed to Qyburn.

"Your command has been taken from you," Qyburn replied.

"The fuck it is. They are iron born! They will follow no one but one of their own!"

"They won't follow you anymore," Strickland said.

Now Euron knew what was up. They knew he had done it. No sense hiding it. They had already condemned him. He looked at Qyburn. "The baby?"

"Dead," Qyburn said. "Your doing?"

"Seems you already know. How?"

"The poison used is rare, so rare it is unavailable in the west."

"Ah. And so you put two and two together and got my name. Now why would I do such a thing?"

"You wanted her pregnancy terminate so your child would be heir to the throne."

"That child would have been a bastard, born of incest. She still loves her brother."

"Perhaps. But all that matters not now."

And now he knew what would happen next. From behind and to the sides many men moved, archers and soldiers of the Golden Company, surrounding them. His eleven men drew weapons and looked about in worry.

"Where is the rest of my crew?" he demanded.

"Gone with the rest," Strickland said.

"All your captains and crews agreed to my terms," Qyburn said. "Most of your men were aboard ship. Some few who were still on the beach when I arrived wanted to fight, but others knew they would all die, outnumbered by the Golden Company."

"They will never fight for Cersei without me."

"True," Qyburn admitted. "I am sure they will run home or seek out your brother's children. Of course I wanted them dead but Captain Strickland and his men refused to fight them if they only wanted to leave. If your men had attacked the Golden Company they would have defended themselves. But they knew the odds were against them, so they left."

"We promised only to fight the enemies of the Queen," Strickland said. "It's in the contract. Jon Snow and Daenerys Targaryen. Not the iron born."

Euron grinned. "So Harry, you won't fight us, eh?"

"No," Strickland said.

"Good," Euron said. In a flash he had his sword out and swung it at Qyburn. But Clegane was swifter, and grabbed his sword with his gauntlet covered left hand. Euron tried to pull it away but the brute was too strong. Euron let go and dashed backwards just as Clegane threw Euron's sword into the sand and pulled out his own massive blade.

Qyburn retreated behind the Lannister men while Clegane advanced. Eleven iron born were here, all well-armed, but it mattered not, as one by one he cut them down. Their blows rained on his helmet and armor, dented it a bit, staggered him once or twice, but still he stood and killed. They tried to stab him through the eye slits, at the weak points under the arms and behind the legs, but nothing worked to slow him down. Like a monster he stalked them and killed them. Arms and legs came off, heads rolled in the sand, blood spurted and still he moved on. Men tried to escape, but the encircled Golden Company soldiers would not let them. One cried and begged and then Clegane's sword went through his back and out his chest. Clegane's armor was now covered in gore and blood.

Euron was last. He had picked up one of his dead men's swords earlier and now he staggered back, almost tripping over a body. Clegane stopped his advance at a word from Qyburn.

"Lord Euron Greyjoy, by order of Queen Cersei Lannister, the First of Her Name, I hereby condemn you to death for the murder of the Queen's unborn son," Qyburn said in a formal way. "Proceed, Ser Gregor."

Euron was going to die, but he would not go down so easily. He charged Clegane, stabbing for the eye slit, the only weak point he could see, and his sword point seemed about to strike home, but he turned his head at the last moment, and the blade glanced off. Then the brute punched him in the face, and down he went, staggered, stunned, hit harder than he had ever been hit in his whole life. Teeth were loose and blood filled his mouth.

He felt the blade's edge on his neck, and the foot on his back, struggled to move, but couldn't.

"WAIT!" he shouted. "The Queen! Doesn't she want me alive, to torture me?"

Qyburn's face came into his field of vision. He bent down and looked him in the eye. "No. She commanded Ser Gregor to bring her your head." Qyburn looked up, nodded once, the cold blade left Euron's neck, and then down it came.

Pain he did not feel, only a strange sensation, a dullness, as his head left his body. For a brief moment he was still alive, and he felt fingers in his hair. Up his head went, his vision still there and he saw them all looking at him. He wanted to curse them, but speech would not come. He knew of one thing he could still do…some muscles that still worked, his brain still giving him some small power to unnerve these bastards who had killed him.

He smiled.

And then Euron Greyjoy was no more.


	8. Chapter 8

**Game of Thrones Season 8 Chapter 8**

 **Old Castle – Theon**

Theon and Yara Greyjoy were both relieved and frustrated by the news that came north. Relieved that a major foe was gone, but frustrated that they had not been the ones to remove him from the seas. Five days after the fall of White Harbor twelve ships of Euron's fleet were spotted near the Sisters, making for the firth of the White Knife. As soon as they saw the Targaryen and White Harbor ships bearing down on them they raised peace banners on their masts.

"Could be a trick," Theon said to his sister as they stood near the bow of the only ship in the fleet that bore the Kraken sigil of their family. "Euron and the rest could be just over the horizon."

The day was cloudy but there was no fog and no strong wind. The ships slid easily through the cold waters and visibility was good for many miles all around.

"Maybe," Yara replied, caution in her tone. They had been caught unawares once and would not have it happen again. She looked up at the tall mast where two men were standing, one with the best eyes in the crew, the other with a spy glass Varys had somehow found for them. "What do you see?" she shouted up to them.

"I count only twelve ships, captain!" came the shout from above. "Sea is clear all around!"

"Maybe they want to join us, not fight us," said Theon.

"Maybe," Yara replied again. She turned to the crew behind them. "Make ready to accept a truce, but be prepared for anything!"

Theon's ship it was, but Yara acted like she was captain and the crew called her such. That caused more than a few angry words between them. "My ship, my men," he told her back in White Harbor.

"If I am to be queen I must have my own ship. I must be a captain. You will get your own ship in time."

He fumed but saw the sense of it. "Right, but don't mock me in front of the men. I had to kill a man to get their respect, little as it is."

"Good. When we kill Euron we will both get all the respect we will ever need from the iron born."

But they were cheated of the chance.

As the rest of the enemy ships took in oars the single one came forward. Theon and Yara's ship met it between the two fleets. Sails were taken down and oars pulled in and the ships drifted on the waves, waiting to see what would happen. Cautiously the Greyjoy's approached the lone ship and when close enough Yara shouted over to them.

"Where's Euron?"

"Dead!" came the replied from a bearded squat man on the foredeck.

"Fuck," Yara said in a low voice. "Prepare to board them!" she shouted to her crew

The enemy ship did not make any attempt to stop them as they pulled close and threw over grappling hooks. Yara and Theon came over with fifty men. The enemy stood there on deck, about forty of them, arms sheathed, not ready to fight.

Yara came up to the man who had shouted. "You…I know you. From Harlaw?"

"Aye, milady. Captain Hannibal Kenning of Harlaw." He was thick bodied, shorter than Yara, a spade shaped black beard flecked with grey, and eyes that said he had been on the seas for many a year.

Theon bristled when he heard the man's name. "Harlaw Island is our mother's brother's seat. Lord Rodrik Harlaw. Yet you sided with Euron?"

"Aye, I did, as did many more," Kenning replied, a hint of guilt in his tone. He waved his hand around. "Twelve ships from Harlaw. All come to you…now Euron's dead."

"How?" Yara demanded.

"Gregor Clegane killed him and near a dozen more on the beach in front of Dragonstone's castle. We saw it from our ships. Took his head clean off."

"Why did he kill him?" Theon asked.

"I thought they were allies," Yara added.

"That Qyburn fellow, milady. You know who I mean?"

"Aye. What of him?"

"He was there, too. He gathered the Golden Company commanders and us few captains that were on the beach. He said Euron killed Cersei's son. Made no sense. Thought all her whelps was dead. Then he told us she was with child and Euron paid a man to poison her. She lost the baby."

"God almighty," said Theon. "Why did he kill her child?'

"Don't know, milord."

"Cause he knew it would be the heir," Yara said. "If she lost the child, and he married her, then he would sire the heir. Not Ser Jaime."

"Ser Jaime's child," Theon said, understanding. "It had to be. She fucked no one else." He looked back at the captain. "What happened next?"

"Euron weren't there at first. Off whoring. Qyburn said we can join the Queen or die. We told him to go fuck himself. He only had about twenty men with him, plus Clegane, but we had enough and the Golden Company commanders refused to fight us. Said their contract was for only the dragon queen and Ned Stark's bastard. So we rowed out to our ships before Euron came back."

"And now you want to turn your cloaks again, is it?" Yara asked in a demeaning tone.

"We know we done wrong, but we want to join you, milady," Kenning answered. "We know where we should be."

"Too bloody late," Theon retorted. "We needed you a year ago when Euron returned."

"I know, milord, but times is changing. We made a mistake. We all respected your father and your other uncles, but Euron…he's a madman…he said we join him or die."

"Then you should have died first," Yara replied in anger. A silence lingered as Yara stared at him. "Where are the rest?"

Another man spoke up. "Said they was heading home. Said the demons can't walk on water, so they would be safe at home."

"Nowhere is safe," Yara told them.

"You saw Euron die, for sure?" Theon asked.

"Aye, milord. Took his head clean off," Kenning repeated.

Yara looked them over once more, then nodded. "Join us," she said. "But in all things you and the rest support me and Theon. I am your queen. Never forget it again."

"Aye, milady," Kenning said. "I swear it."

And that was that. The iron born did not bend the knee to their lords. Later the bond would be sealed on shore with salt water and drink. No one said a word about Yara being a woman or why she was queen when Theon should be king. He knew why they kept silent on that.

"Finally, some good news," Varys said when they returned to Old Castle with the twelve new ships added to their fleet. They were in a room Varys had been given by Lord Locke. Small, but still comfortable, and at least warm and dry. Ser Wylis was still at the wharves seeing the ships into berths in the crowded harbor, but Theon and Yara had come straight here to tell Varys the news. Little the news would do their allies in Winterfell any good for Lord Locke had few ravens and only for White Harbor. As far as they knew as yet Winterfell did not know White Harbor had fallen.

Unlike Varys, Theon did not feel it was good news, nor did Yara. "Most of the fleet has returned to the Iron Islands," she told Varys.

"At least they are not against us," the master of whisperers replied.

"More trouble for us when we return home," Theon said, understanding what it truly meant.

"Aye," said Yara. "What fool will take charge while we are gone? Who will be a friend or foe when we return?"

"You will be named queen of the Iron Islands as promised by Daenerys," Varys told them.

"Naming me queen does not make it so," Yara told him. "The iron born follow strength. Gregor Clegane killed Euron. It wasn't me, or Theon."

"I see," said Varys. "But you do understand the war is not over yet. You still have time to make a name for yourselves."

"How?" Theon asked. "What fleet does Cersei have we can defeat?"

"None," Varys answered. "But she depends on trade, especially for supplies. What deal she has with the Iron Bank I know not, but with winter here in Westeros she will need to depend on ships from the Free Cities for supplies. Especially after the ice dragon did such damage to her grain supplies in King's Landing."

"Slim pickings," Yara said. "Few merchant men will dare the crossing in winter, well paid or not. No, there will be no glory there."

"There is still the Golden Company," Varys reminded them. "They must somehow get from Dragonstone to King's Landing again, if indeed that is their plan."

"Too late," said Yara. "It's been a week or more since Euron died. They must be gone from there by now. No, there is only one place to go. I say we find a fight where there is a fight, at Winterfell."

Theon shook his head involuntarily, as a fear crept up his spine. "No," he said without thinking. "Never."

His sister stared at him, knowing what he was thinking. "Ramsey Bolton is dead."

"It's not just him. I did terrible things there," Theon said, a tremor in his voice. "They don't forget."

"Jon Snow forgave you," Varys reminded him.

"Not forgave," Theon said. "He said the only reason he didn't kill me was because I saved Sansa. Might be good enough for him, but not the rest."

"Lady Sansa is now in charge of Winterfell," Varys said. "Surely she will protect you, especially if you arrive with hundreds of fighting men at your side."

"Aye," Yara said. "We are going. Don't argue."

Theon wanted to argue but said nothing. "Good," she said after a moment. "How many men do we have on our ships?"

Theon shrugged. "Thirteen ships. Maybe five or six hundred. Probably less."

Yara nodded. "We can't take them all. Some will have to stay to man the ships. But it's enough."

"How will you get there?" Varys asked. "With White Harbor gone the White Knife access point is blocked."

"I need a map and time to think," Yara replied. "You two make yourselves useful and find this Lord Locke and see what supplies and horses he can give us." She walked away and out the door without another word.

"She certainly does act like a queen," Varys said when she was gone.

"She can have it," Theon told him. "I'm not fit for anything anymore."

"Come now, it's not all that bad."

Theon grunted. "As if you would know. When was yours cut off?"

"When I was a boy."

"So you never lay with a woman?"

"No, but one does not need to be whole to give pleasure to another, or to receive it. In my youth I still had some urges, but I always found such things to be a distraction. Nowadays I direct my energies elsewhere."

"Good for you," Theon said and he started to walk towards the door. A man who had never been inside a woman could never understand his torment and longing, though with each passing day his desire grew less.

"My lord, do not give up hope for a good life," Varys said to him. Theon stopped and turned around, his face full of despair, he knew.

"They mock me, always. To my face, behind my back, it matters not. To them I will always be less of a man. I can't be their king for I can give them no heir. I can't lead for they do not trust me. A father I will never be, nor a husband. What else is there?"

"Much," Varys said. "But it seems you have already given up. Then why not go back to Winterfell and join the fight if you care not for the future?"

"Mistakes and regrets I have are many, but none more so than attacking Winterfell. I can't go back there."

"We have all made mistakes in our life," Varys said. "It's how we learn. You rescued your sister. Surely that must count for something, at least with your people. Go back to Winterfell, show them you are a man, and can fight for them. The North may never forgive you, but there is some hope of redemption."

"Redemption? All I can hope for back there is a quick death. Maybe it is what I deserve."

"I see. Well, if it is a death you seek, then there is no better place. And remember, the Starks don't torture those who wrong them. They cut their heads off. Quick and done with."

Theon knew he was right. If he wanted a death, there was no better place than Winterfell. He should have stayed and fought Euron, should have died. But he feared being capture, and what he would do to him, so he ran away. Swam away. Now he had no fear of that. Varys was right. The Starks or the demons would make it quick.

Die on the sea, die on the land…it mattered not. It was time. There was no life for him in the future. He was so tired of it. Better he was dead facing an enemy. Redemption he might get, but a sword through the belly or across the back of his neck was what he truly deserved, and deep down what he wanted. He would go to Winterfell, and face his demons, of both kinds, and when it was all over, maybe he would get some redemption. But for sure he would end his own personal agony and find peace in a grave.

* * *

 **King's Landing – Cersei**

Euron Greyjoy's head was tarred and hanging from a rope on the end of a pike. Ser Gregor carried it up the central aisle of the throne room with Qyburn walking beside him. Few people were here, for few of noble birth remained, but they all looked in awe at the head and who carried it. Good, let them fear him and me, she thought. It is all I have left.

Seeing the head reminded her of Eddard's Stark's head on a spike. A foolish act and it cost them much. He father said they could have used Ned Stark to broker a peace with his son Robb and the northern lords. But Joffrey did what he did and she had no power to stop him…but now that she thought on it maybe she had the power and didn't want to use it. If Ned Stark had lived, in time he would have met Lord Tywin and would have told him why he had done what he had done. So Cersei and Jaime's terrible secret would have been revealed to their father. Back then it seemed necessary to do anything to stop this. Now, it mattered not.

When they reached the foot of the dais she spoke to the assembled people. "This is what happens to those who betray the crown," she said. They all knew what had happened. No announcement had been made of her lost son, but word got out. Too many people had seen her in distress, had helped her. A whisper became a rumor and a rumor fact when Euron died.

Her son Tywin's burial had been private, with a few people present, Qyburn later told her. She had wanted to be there but had not the strength to do so. He was buried in a small stone crypt in a small corner of the Red Keep gardens. Later when better she visited his crypt and wept. She ordered guards kept beside it day and night.

When the ceremony was done she ordered Clegane to have Greyjoy's head placed on a spike over the main gates of the Red Keep. Then she left through the back door into the small council chambers. Qyburn and her other six guards followed. When she and Qyburn were seated he began his daily report.

"The Golden Company is mostly here now," he said. "A few ships are still not back, though the weather has not been too bad, so I should expect them soon."

She gave him a steely glare. "If you had convinced the ironmen not to abandon us we would not have this problem."

"Your Grace, forgive me, but I must speak plainly."

"Go on."

"I had no power to stop them, as I said. With Euron's death, they were sure to abandon you. As I said."

"You could have offered them gold."

"The crown does not have any more gold, Your Grace."

"A promise for the future, then."

"I think they would not accept such promises."

She fumed. "Now half my strength is gone. All that is left are these mercenaries and a handful of loyal soldiers."

"All is not lost, Your Grace."

"Don't be a fool!" she snapped. "Who will support us now?"

"The Dornish will…for a price."

"What?"

He took out a letter from inside his robes. "A rider arrived this morning. From Lord Anders Yronwood."

He handed it to her and she read. " _Your Grace, I am now the undisputed leader of Dorne. We will side with you, but we have some conditions. Dorne will have a measure of independence within your kingdom. We will pay no taxes to the Iron Throne. We will not be subject to your laws. We will join a war only if it is in our interest. At present, it seems to be in our interest. I command a force of twenty thousand spears that is presently encamped at Summerhall. When I receive word of your agreement they will march to King's Landing. One more thing. The people of Dorne demand vengeance. Prince Oberyn Martell was loved by all, as was his sister Elia and her children. Their killer must face justice. Send us the head of Gregor Clegane with your reply and we will soon be at your side._ "

She put the letter down and stared at Qyburn. "He's mad."

"Your Grace, we…"

"Never."

"It seems…"

"NEVER!" she shouted, the word echoing off the room's walls.

Qyburn said nothing as she took all this in. "Independence?" she said after a moment. "No taxes? Fight when they feel like it? Why bother even calling me Queen? I want his head."

"Whose head, Your Grace?"

"Yronwood! Who else? Certainly not Ser Gregor. That will never happen."

"He is but one man and…"

"I said never!"

Qyburn knew when he was beaten and said nothing. "What else?" she said after a moment.

"There is nothing else, Your Grace."

"The North? Winterfell? What are they doing? Do they still live?"

"There has been no news from the North in many weeks now."

"Why not? Don't you have little birds there?"

"A few, but none in Winterfell. Either they are all with Varys now, are dead, or somehow this Night King has closed the North to all, coming and going."

"Let us hope," she said. "Then soon more of my enemies will be dead."

* * *

 **Winterfell – Arya**

They were awfully bad at hiding their love, Arya thought, as she watched Jon and Daenerys climb on the dragons. She had come to the Queen's rooms this morning and Jon was outside her door. Whether he was going or coming she could not tell at first but he seemed embarrassed, so she figured he was just leaving. Whether he had spent the night or not she also didn't know.

"She's awake," was all he said as he walked away, casting his eyes away from her questioning look.

Now they were off again, flying away, while she stood on the battlements. The Hound was beside her, silent, looking north, as she did. Nearby Bronn and Gendry were supervising some men setting up the second bolt thrower on the flat roof of a half-moon tower. It was a large steel contraption that Bronn had shown Mikken, Gendry, and the other smiths how to make. The first one was on top of a nearby tower, manned and ready. Soon both machines and their heavy bolts would be facing north, preparing for Viserion and the Night King.

The Hound spat over the battlements, then gave a grunt. "Idiots," he said in a low voice.

"What?"

"That thing will never work. Get some good men killed when the ice comes down on them."

"It might work."

"Not a chance. And neither will those dragons."

"We've got two," she started to protest. "And the Queen knows…"

"She don't know shit," he snapped back. "I was there when the other one died. That demon threw a fucking ice spear and killed it. One shot, one spear, hundreds of yards he threw it, and that was it. He almost killed the one we were one too. Barely missed us. And you know how many ice spears he has? A lot, I bet. Two is all it takes. And he ain't like to miss again. Maybe more of his kind can throw them too."

She was mad at him for talking like this. "Do you want us to lose?"

"Course not. I'm just being smart."

"Stupid, you mean."

"Go on, then. Tell me how it will go. Go on."

"I…I don't know. No one does. Certainly not you."

He laughed. "You're not so calm anymore. Forget everything they taught you in Braavos?"

"Shut up."

"I heard about your little dinner speech. Everyone knows. They're scared of you. Not little Arya anymore. Killer, they whisper, with ice in her veins. Killed all the Freys. Killed a Kingsguard. Cut Littlefinger's throat like you was cutting a loaf of bread." He spat again. "Good riddance to him."

So everyone knew. Good. "He needed to die."

"A lot of people need to die. You still got your list? My name still off it?"

"Yes."

"Smart girl. You know you would never best me."

"It can always go back on!"

"Your blood is up. Good. Get mad. That's all that will work out here."

"I'm not mad!" she said in an angry tone and he laughed again. She said nothing, calmed herself, took some deep breaths, and stilled her mind. But then she saw Gendry, and her mind and heart would not stay still.

Days it had been, and they had not had a chance to repeat that night. Not that they did not want to. She was sore afterwards, so that was a problem, but she was over it now. She felt like a real woman at last, and a whole new world was opening up. And she wanted more of it. A few brief moments they had been alone, in a storage shed, in a corridor. A quick kiss before someone interrupted them was all they had time for. Tonight she would invite him back to her room. She was ready.

The Hound saw where she was looking. "So, he your man now?"

"What? No."

"Right."

"He isn't."

"Matters not to me. Just make sure you drink some moon tea after."

"Moon tea?" said a new voice, Brienne approaching from behind them.

"Settles the stomach," the Hound said. "After too much wine."

"I see," Brienne said, not quite believing him. "Arya, Lady Sansa requests your presence."

"What's going on?" she asked.

"We have some visitors. They rode through the south gate a short time ago. Lord Howland Reed and his daughter Meera."

The Hound and Brienne followed her to Sansa's chambers and then waited outside the door. Inside Arya found Sansa sitting at her solar table with two people she had never met before, a man and a woman. They stood as she entered. They were somewhat short, about as tall as she was, and had curly dark hair and brownish eyes. For clothing they wore furs over what looked like some kind of animal skins, a mix of browns and greens.

"Hello," Arya said.

"Hello, my lady," said the man and he and the woman dipped their heads.

"My sister, Arya," Sansa said. "This is Lord Howland Reed and his daughter Meera."

"Yes, Brienne told me," Arya said. "My lord, you were with our father at the Tower of Joy."

"I was," said Lord Reed. He had a steady voice and seemed older than their father had been, but there was a youthfulness to his eyes.

"We were just discussing this," Sansa said. "Please sit." Arya sat with them. On the table were cups of tea and some bread and honey, but no one was eating or drinking, and a serious tension was in the air.

"So," Sansa began. "Now Arya is here, you can tell us what happened."

"What about Jon?" Lord Reed asked. "He should be here for this."

"He's off with the Queen," Arya said. "Busy for the moment."

Lord Reed nodded. "Very well. I suppose I can tell you since you already know much of this."

"Wait, Father. Where is Bran?" Meera Reed asked next. "He should be here at least."

"Probably in the godswood or library," Arya answered. "Do you know him?"

"I told you," Sansa said. "Meera and her brother were the ones who helped save Bran when he was north of the Wall."

"Oh…right," Arya replied. She had heard of this. "You saved him from the demons in that cave, right?"

Meera looked down, as if ashamed of something. "I…did my part. It was the Children, and Summer…and Hodor…they saved us…by dying. And then your Uncle Benjen helped us."

And now he was gone too, for good this time. Arya knew most of the story, but not all.

"My son died as well," said Lord Reed, his voice heavy. "So many are gone…and more will if we do not act. But first about the Tower of Joy…and Jon."

He told the story, much like Bran said it was, and he had regrets, many. "I have kept my silence too long. When your father died I should have told the truth about Jon. But a promise I made to Eddard and so a promise I kept. Now it seems the truth has come out. So…yes, Lyanna Stark died in child birth. The child was a boy. He is the son of Rhaegar Targaryen. Your father named him Jon and told the world he was his son. And he swore me to secrecy."

A secret confirmed. The evidence was too great now. Jon was a Targaryen.

"How has he taken the news?" Lord Reed asked.

"Badly at first," Sansa said. "Though he is coming to terms with it."

"Who else knows?" Meera asked next.

"Few people," Arya said. "The Queen knows. Jon told her. Others are beginning to suspect. Jon can ride a dragon. That's where he is now."

"Then there is no doubt a true Targaryen he is," Lord Reed said.

"Did Lyanna tell my father anything else?" Sansa asked.

"I was not in the room when she died. I had taken a wound and was being tended to. Later I helped your father bury the dead and prepare Lyanna to come home."

Meera was suspicious of the question. "What did Bran say? Was there anything else?"

"Yes," Arya said quickly before Sansa gave the game away about Jon being heir to the throne. "She told our father that they wanted to name the boy Aegon."

"Aegon?" Lord Reed said in surprise. "Eddard never told me this. Strange. Rhaegar already had a son with that name, though he was dead by the time Jon was born."

"We have been wondering the same thing," Sansa said. "Sam Tarly is here. He's a friend of Jon's and a maester in training. He thinks it has to do with a prophecy. About the prince who was promised."

"I have heard of this tale," Lord Reed replied. "Does this Sam Tarly think Jon is the prince?"

"Maybe," said Arya. "Sam says that maybe the name Aegon is specially connected with the prophecy."

"Prophecies are not to be trifled with," Lord Reed said. "Among our people we place great store in them."

"And in the greensight," Meera added.

"So Bran told us," said Sansa. "I…I'm sorry, Lord Reed, but we have trouble understanding what Bran can do."

"He is the three eyed raven," Lord Reed said. When they looked confused he seemed surprised, as did Meera. "Has he not explained it?" she asked.

"Not really," said Arya. "We know he has vision of the past. But they are not much use."

"Not only visions," Lord Reed said. "Meera told us what Bran said about Hodor."

"Yes, so he told us," said Sansa. "He claimed he damaged Hodor when he was a lad by entering his mind while he was in a past vision. But how is that possible?"

"It just is," Lord Reed replied. "We have no answers to everything. That is the first thing you must accept if we are to help Bran find his true purpose in all this."

"And what is his true purpose?" Arya asked.

"To stop the great enemy," Lord Reed said matter-of-factly. "Unfortunately, the previous three eyed raven died before Bran's training was complete. That is why I have come." He stood. "It is time for him to complete his training. Bring me to him."

"But even if he can finish his training, how can he stop the Night King?" Sansa asked.

"If what I believe is true about Bran and his purpose then the Night King will never even exist."

Arya and Sansa looked at each other and Lord Reed knew what they were thinking. "It is possible."

"How?" Sansa asked, her tone conveying her skepticism.

"In time I will explain. But first I must see Bran. Time is short, and danger will soon be on all of us."

Sansa stood. "Then let us go."

Sansa took the Reeds to the godswood, with Brienne following. Arya and the Hound started back towards the battlements.

"Good meeting?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Frog eaters have anything useful to say?"

"Don't call them that."

"Why not? That's what they eat."

She stopped and turned on him. "Why are you so full of hate all the time?"

"I'm a hateful man."

"No, you're not. Remember who you are talking to."

"Then remember that you know why I am the way I am. It's all over my face. Until he is dead I will have no peace."

"Maybe. Then what?"

"What?"

"What happens after you kill your brother?"

That took him aback and he hesitated before speaking. "Guess I'll have a drink…and sleep well for once."

He turned away from her and went up the stairs and she followed. At the top they found Bronn and Gendry were instructing the crew how to fire the bolts from the new machine.

"You pull it back, like this," Bronn said as he demonstrated. "Then you wait till the fucker is close enough and you fire. Better if he is coming straight at you so you don't miss. When he fills the sky, then you fire."

"Bloody hell," said one soldier with the sigil of the Vale on his surcoat. "If he's that close were dead."

"Aye, maybe so," said Bronn. "Just make sure you fire before he kills you."

"Waste of time," said the Hound.

"Why?" Gendry asked.

"Cause it is," the Hound said and he walked away by himself a short distance off.

"Grumpy fellow," said Bronn and then one of the men asked him a question and Bronn started explaining again.

"Come here," Arya whispered to Gendry. She walked away in the opposite direction the Hound had taken and Gendry followed.

"How are you?" he asked.

"Good…better."

"Oh…good."

"I…want you…again," she said and she had the urge to hug him but held herself back.

"Tonight?"

"Yes."

"Arya, about us, I…"

"No," she said quickly. "Let's leave that till later. We will talk…tonight."

She looked up at his face but he wasn't looking at her, he was looking past her. "Smoke," he said.

"What?" Arya turned around and saw what he saw, off to the southeast, smoke rising in the air.

Bronn had seen it too and walked over to them. "That must be a big fire to see it from here," he said.

Now the Hound joined them. "Someone lit that fire," he said. "Why?"

Then Arya knew why. "Wights," she said.

"Fuck," Bronn said. "Someone's in trouble."

"Where are the dragons?" Gendry asked.

They all looked around but could not see them. "Not here," Arya said.

"We have to know what is going on out there," Bronn said.

"Bran," Arya replied. "He can send a raven." She looked at Gendry. "Stay with me."

Down they ran, to find her brother, and Arya had an awful feeling the big battle they had been waiting weeks for was about to begin.

* * *

 **Winterfell – Bran**

He was in the godswood when she arrived back a Winterfell. Sansa took her to him. He was in a trance, though not quite under. With the ravens, he was, flying about, trying to find the enemy.

"Bran," came her soft voice. He came back to himself, and Meera was standing beside his chair.

"Hello," he said.

"Hi," she replied, and he could sense she was nervous. "Ah, Bran, this is my father, Lord Howland Reed."

He turned his head slightly to the left and saw Sansa and next to her was the man he had seen in his visions, older now, but not by much."

"You helped my father kill Ser Arthur Dayne."

"I did," he said. "You had a vision of that day?"

"Yes."

There was an awkward silence. Meera looked to her father and then back to Bran. "We are here to help you, Bran. My father is, I mean."

"How?" Bran asked.

"Your training must be complete," Howland Reed told him.

"Are you a three eyed raven, too?" Bran asked.

"No," he said. "But in my family many have had the greensight. Jojen…"

"I'm sorry," Bran interrupted. He was looking at Meera when he said it. "For Jojen."

She nodded slightly. "It's okay Bran. He's dead, and we must move on."

"But when you left before I didn't…I wasn't able to say the words."

"I know."

There was another awkward silence as she looked at him, her eyes tender and shiny, as if she was on the verge of crying. Then her father spoke. "We must talk, Bran. Jojen had the greensight, knew what you would become. He told me much. But you had no time to learn. Now I must tell you all I know."

"I am ready."

"I think inside would be better," Sansa said. "The Reeds have just arrived and must be tired and hungry."

"We are," Lord Reed said. "But this cannot wait."

They left, with Lord Reed pushing Bran's chair, and found Brienne outside the main gate to the godswood. They got halfway across the courtyard when Arya and Gendry met them.

"Trouble," Arya said. "We see smoke on the horizon to the southeast."

"A lot of smoke," Gendry added. "Could be the enemy."

"I'll sound the alarm," Brienne said right away and she ran off, shouting and soon they saw her talking with Ser Davos and Tormund.

"Where are Jon and the Queen?" Sansa asked them.

"Not here," Arya told her. She looked at Bran. "Can you get a raven to fly and see what is happening?"

"Yes," he said and then he closed his eyes and was gone from them.

The raven was in the rookery and as soon as Bran entered its mind he felt the urge to fly. Off it went across the battlements and Bran did a full circle of the castle, picking up the smoke where Arya said it would be. He flew south and then east, and was soon over the frozen White Knife branch. Down he flew, heading towards Castle Cerwyn, but short of it he came on the source of the smoke.

In a great circle on both sides of the frozen river all the forest was on fire. And down below were people, in the midst of it, fighting for their lives.

They were surrounded on all sides by wights, including a giant. Fire was holding them at bay, but just, and Bran also saw several White Walkers. The people he did not know, for they wore strange clothing and had markings on their faces. Most looked like soldiers, but some were not, and wore red robes. In the midst of them was a woman, wearing all red as well, standing on a wagon. As if sensing she was their leader Bran had the raven fly down to her. He alit on the wagon and soon as he did so he heard the woman chanting. He also saw the giant wight charging towards the line of defenders in front of her.

Then as she finished her strange words a massive wall of fire erupted and the giant wight was engulfed. It screamed a hideous shriek, twisted and turned and fell back among the other wights, setting some of them on fire as well.

"Brandon Stark," said a voice, and Bran looked up and saw the woman looking down at him. "Do not be afraid," she said. "I know what you are, wolf boy of a thousand eyes, three eyed raven. I am Melisandre of Ashai. Tell Jon Snow and the Queen we need them and their dragons here, now, or all will be lost."

Bran immediately snapped out of that bird, found a new one in the rookery and flew north to find Jon and the Queen before it was too late.

* * *

 **Winterfell – Jon**

As usual this day they flew north, looking for the enemy, but they were not to be found. Down below was mostly forest so thick they could not see much anyway. A whole army could be marching under those trees and they would never know till they were at the gates of Winterfell.

After an hour they flew back and stopped on the Kingsroad to let the dragons rest.

"Better," Dany said. "I think we are ready."

"Good. Now all we need is someone to fight."

"I am not so eager for it to start," she replied. "I…I am afraid of what will happen."

He knew what she meant. "It will happen, and people will die. There is nothing we can do about that."

"Yes…I just…I don't want…you…gods, why is this so hard."

"I love you," he said, blurting out the words he knew she wanted to say.

She was startled at first, her eyes wide, and then she was in his arms and they were hugging and kissing and she said the words back to him. "I love you as well."

After a time, Jon looked at her. "Now what do we do?"

She sighed. "I know not. All my experience has not prepared me for this."

"No one knows we are related."

"Some do."

"They will understand. Arya saw me leave your rooms this morning."

"Did she say anything?"

"I didn't give her time. But they will understand. As for the rest, we will do nothing until the war is over."

And then a bird alit on Jon's right shoulder.

"A raven," she said in surprise. "On your shoulder."

"Shoo," Jon said as he pushed the bird away. It flew up and then came back down on his shoulder again.

"Gods, bird, you have terrible timing. Go away!"

Again he tried to brush it off and again it returned.

"Jon, this is not natural."

And then he knew. "Bran?"

The bird seemed to nod its head. Then it flew over the dragons and moved in a circle over them.

"I think we'd better go," Jon said. "If that's Bran there might be a problem."

Up the dragons climbed, flying after the raven and soon passing it. Jon was about to turn around to find the raven again and then he saw what the trouble was, smoke on the horizon to the southeast.

He looked over at Dany on Drogon to his left and she was pointing her hand that way. He nodded and off they went.

In a short time they neared the battle. Fire ringed a group of people on both sides of the river and wights were attacking them, thousands of wights. Dany knew what to do and dived down to kill the enemy. Jon took a worrying look about, did not see a third dragon anywhere, and dove down as well. Dany took the left side and Jon the right. When they were close enough he yelled, " _Dracarys!_ "

Below him the heat built up and then a massive column of flame shot out of Rhaegal's mouth. Down below hundreds of wights were engulfed and turned to ash in mere moments. Rhaegal rose and did a wing over and came back down again and then Jon did not need say it, the dragon understood and flame destroyed hundreds more wights. He saw a White Walker on the edge of the battle and for a moment thought it was the Night King, but it was not. The Walker looked up, saw him on the dragon's back, and then rode its horse away into the forest before Jon could attack him.

Then they were running, away from the fires, those that survived. Dany was landing Drogon in the midst of the people and soon Jon was beside her.

The air was heavy with the stench of smoke and death. Many had died, how many he could not tell. But as soon as he got close enough he knew who they were.

She came out of the smoke towards them where they had landed the dragons by the river. Melisandre dipped her head and spoke in High Valyrian to Dany and Jon did not understand.

"Let us speak in the language of all my people," Dany told her.

"Of course," Melisandre replied. She looked at Jon and dipped her head. "My prince."

"Don't call me that," he said, harsher than he meant to. But he knew why he had been harsh. "I told you what would happen if you returned to the North."

"You did. I am ready to die. But first you will want to hear what I have to say."

Jon hesitated and then nodded. "Very well. But not here. We should be able to get to Winterfell before nightfall. How many are you?"

Melisandre turned to a large tattoo-faced man beside her, they spoke in High Valyrian, and then Dany told Jon what he said. "Six hundred and eighty-nine warriors left," she said. "Some are wounded. One hundred and eleven dead. Nineteen priests and priestesses left, one dead. And her."

Later it turned out to be an accurate account. They burned the dead, tended the wounded, and then started for Winterfell, with the dragons flying overhead. Jon had much to ask of the red woman, but now was not the time.

Darkness was falling when they approached the castle's south gate. Here there was room for her men to pitch tents and they began to do so with help from men already here. The wildlings, Northerners, and men of the Vale looked on these strangers with suspicion at first, for they spoke no common language and the Fiery Hand was strange and exotic to them. But in time they would all forge bonds made by blood.

Jon had hardly gotten off Rhaegal by the north gate when Ser Davos was there. "She must die," were the first words out of his mouth.

"I know," Jon replied. "For now I need talk to her. You stay away. That is not a request, it is a command."

Ser Davos bristled and then nodded. "Aye, my lord. As you say. But know this. She does not leave here alive."

"She won't."

Arya and Sansa were also waiting…with Howland Reed and his daughter. Jon had not expected them. A letter had been sent to Lord Reed, requesting confirmation of the story of his birth, but he did not expect him to come here.

After introductions Lord Reed and Meera dipped their heads to the Queen and then Lord Reed spoke to Dany first. "Your Grace, I heard you know about what your brother did."

"I do."

"Despite all, I still believe your brother was a good man…more so than your father."

"So I have been told."

Then he looked at Jon. "By all the gods," he said. "I have not seen you since you were born."

Jon looked about, worried. "Not all know this tale, my lord."

"Forgive me. I should be more discrete."

"You have been, for a long time," Jon said.

"Too long."

Then he asked the dreaded question. "So…it is true, isn't it?"

"It is. We must talk."

"Yes," Sansa said. "We must talk."

"Not here," said Arya.

Jon shook his head. "Not yet. We need to see the red woman first and decide her fate. Come with us, both of you. Find the Hound and Brienne, Ser Jorah, Bronn, Gendry and Tormund as well. Sam, too. And Tyrion. He should be here for this too." He looked back to Lord Reed and his daughter. "We will talk later, my lord."

"As you wish. I have much to discuss with your brother first."

"Why?"

"Because he must be trained if we are to survive." With that cryptic comment Lord Reed and Meera dipped their heads again and turned around and went into the castle.

Dany spoke. "So, it is true."

"It seems so." They stared at each other, now knowing what was said was without doubt true, and what this meant, for them and the future of the kingdom.

"Jon, why do we need so many people to see the red woman?" Arya asked, breaking the silence.

"Cause I don't know what will happen." Then he looked back at Dany. "Maybe you should stay out of it."

"No. I am the Queen. I will have a say."

"Very well."

A short while later after it got dark they gathered by the south gate, all of them well armed, even Sansa and the Queen with daggers at their sides.

Jon looked them over. "I will not have her set foot in Winterfell," he said. "I sent word to her that we will meet in her tent. The Queen, Sansa, Tyrion, Sam, Arya and I will go inside. The rest wait outside. There could be trouble, so Edd and the Watch are nearby as are many of the free folk. I don't know what she told her people, but knowing them they already know she is under a death sentence. And knowing her skills she has already seen what will happen. So be prepared for anything."

The Hound grunted. "I think I'll stay out of it. I have no love for fire worshipers."

Bronn smirked. "Afraid of a little fire?"

"Listen you,…" the Hound began to growl but Sansa stopped him with a word.

"Sandor…I need you."

He sighed and nodded. "Aye, my lady."

As they walked out the gate and into the camp of the Fiery Hand, Lord Tyrion walked beside Jon and the Queen. "What will you do?" he asked Jon.

"Listen…and then decide."

"She wants to be our ally," Tyrion said needlessly. "And she has brought us some support."

"I know."

"Killing her would not help us much."

"I know," Jon said, irritated at his prattling. "If you have any words of use now is the time."

"Only one. Don't…kill her that is." Jon knew one word would never suffice for Tyrion.

"We'll see," was all he said.

Sam was behind him, walking with Gendry and Arya. "Jon, why am I here?"

"Because she's going to talk about that damn prophecy again. And you know it better than us."

"Oh," Sam said. And then they were at her tent.

Two guards stepped aside. They did not ask for any weapons or seem tense about anything. Bronn stared at one guard's face. "Nice tattoo." He looked over at the Hound. "You want one? Go well with your scars."

"Piss off little man before I decide to finally kill you."

Jon looked at them in exasperation. "Keep your eyes open."

"We will," said Brienne.

Tormund grinned. "I haven't killed anyone for a while now."

Ser Jorah gave him a look. "Only if they start it."

"And don't do anything to make them start it," Jon added.

The tent was large, more like a pavilion than a tent. Inside it was very warm. The ground was covered in carpets. Three coal filled braziers were lit and many candles drove away the darkness. Two guards stood nearby a large square table which had cups of wine already poured. Seven cups, for the host and the six people who had entered. There were seven wooden chairs. Six chairs were empty. The red woman was in the seventh.

Melisandre stood from her chair on the opposite side of the table. "Welcome," she said. "Please sit."

They did so, Jon and the Queen opposite her, Sam and Tyrion to Jon's left, Sansa and Arya to the Queen's right. Jon did the introductions and then noticed Arya was staring at the red woman and wondered if it had been a mistake to bring her.

"Arya Stark," Melisandre said. "I told you we would meet again."

"You did," Arya said, calmly.

"Many eyes you have closed."

"I have."

"You want to kill me."

"I do."

Jon felt the tension rise, and looked at the guards, but they showed no sign of understanding.

"Why?" Melisandre asked Arya. "Your friend did not die."

"No thanks to you."

"Do you love him?"

That startled Arya and Jon saw her blink rapidly and bite her lower lip. Jon cleared his throat. "We came as you asked. Now say what you will."

"Of course," Melisandre said. "First, let us drink. I believe you call it guest right." She took up her own cup and sipped and then noticed no one else did and Jon saw all look with suspicion at their cups. She laughed. "Surely you do not think I would poison you? What good would that serve? I would most certainly die. And the great enemy would win for sure."

Tyrion shrugged. "Well, if I must die, better with a cup of wine to my lips than not." He took a big gulp, nodded. "A fine vintage."

"From Volantis," she said as everyone sipped their wine.

"So, let us get to the point," Dany said, a hint of impatience in her tone. "Lord Snow tells me you murdered a young girl by burning her alive. Information neither you nor Varys told me when we met on Dragonstone."

"I believe Lord Varys did not know."

"But is it true?" Sansa asked.

"I have admitted it before to your brother," she said.

"So," Jon said. "That is done. Now…say what you will in your defense."

"I have no defense."

"Ah, a short trial," said Tyrion, trying to sound jovial but failing. "My favorite kind."

"The penalty for murder in the North is death," Jon said, eyes staring hard at the red woman.

"You banished me once before."

"Aye, I did. And you know why I did it."

"If not for me you would be still dead," Melisandre needlessly reminded him.

"I gave you your life once for this debt I owned," Jon told her. "I do not owe you anymore."

"Fair enough," she replied. Then she looked to her guards and spoke in High Valyrian and one left.

Dany and Tyrion both understood, Tyrion not perfectly. "Get him?" Tyrion asked, a look to the Queen.

"No, it," Dany said and then she looked back to Melisandre. "What is 'it'?"

"Patience," Melisandre said.

Jon was beginning to get angry. "I have no time for games. You say you have no defense. Then…"

"Please," she said. "Just wait a few moments. All will be explained."

Jon bit back his anger and nodded. "Very well."

In a moment the same man who had stood by her side by the river after the battle came into the tent. In his hands he had a long object wrapped in cloth. Jon knew right away what it was.

"A sword?"

"Not just any sword," Melisandre said as it was laid on the table before her. She took off the cloth and there was a sword in a sheath. The sword hilt was plain as was the sheath. Then she pulled it out of the sheath. The blade was long and sharp looking, and seemed made of Valyrian steel. Jon stood as did Arya, both with hands on weapons.

"Fear not," said the red woman. "I will not use it against you. I bring it as a gift, for the one who was promised." Now she stared first at Jon and then at Daenerys. "This is Lightbringer."

She laid it on the table and they all stared at the sword, none more intensely than Tyrion. "How is this possible? Where has it been?"

"In Volantis, in our temple, all this time," she answered.

"For eight thousand years?" Sam asked in surprise.

"Uncertain. No one knows when it was brought there. The temple is but a few hundred years old."

"Then how do you know it is Lightbringer?" Sansa asked.

"Because I have been told it is."

Arya scoffed. "It's just a sword you say is Lightbringer so you can save your neck." She looked at Jon. "Well? What are you going to do?"

But Jon was staring at the sword. "Sam…is it possible?"

"Sure…but if it really is that old, it's in awfully good shape."

"It is," agreed the Queen. "We should have an expert look at it."

Without a word Arya left the tent and a moment later returned with Gendry, who was one of their outside guards. He stared at the red woman, his eyes full of hate.

"Lord Baratheon," she said.

"I am not a lord. Just a smith."

"For now. Save your hatred for the enemy, my lord. You are not the only one here who wishes me dead. You will all get what you want in time."

"The sword," Jon said to Gendry. "Examine it and tell us about it."

Gendry picked up the sword by the hilt, examined it by turning it in the light. It shone with the reflected candle light. "Strange," he said after a moment. "At first I thought it Valyrian steel…but...Arya, your dagger, please."

She took it out and he compared the metals. "See how the dagger metal is smoky, darker than the sword," he said. "It's not Valyrian steel."

"Then what is it?" Jon asked as Arya put her dagger away. "Plain steel? Iron?"

"I…I don't know," Gendry admitted. "Not plain steel and certainly not iron. It's…something new."

"Or old," Tyrion said. "Have you seen its like?"

"I've never seen metal like this before."

"Test it," Jon said, needing to know.

"How?"

"My chair," Arya said. "Cut it in two, from the back down."

"A sword is not an axe," Gendry protested.

"Go ahead," the red woman said. "You will see I am right. The sword will not be harmed."

Gendry hesitated, looked at Jon, who nodded, and then with all his strength he raised the sword and brought it down on the chair's back. In one easy stroke the sword went through the wooden back and the seat and split the chair neatly in two.

"Bravo," said Tyrion. "Still proves nothing."

"Give the sword to Jon Snow," the red woman said.

Gendry held it out and Jon hesitated because he knew why she asked this. "What will happen if I am the prince?"

"I know not," she said.

All eyes were on Jon as he reached his hand out and took the hilt from Gendry. He held the sword…it seemed lighter than a normal sword, even a Valyrian blade like Longclaw. He thought something special would happen…but nothing did.

"It's light… a good blade," he said. "Still don't know if it is Lightbringer."

Melisandre's face did not show any emotion. "The Queen," she said. "Give it to her."

Jon looked at Dany. She had told him what Missendei and the red woman had discussed, knew she could be the one that was promised. Dany took the sword, held it awkwardly…and nothing happened.

"So, show and tell is over. Now what?" Tyrion said after a gulp of wine.

Sam gave the answer, and it was an answer Jon did not want to hear. "Azor Ahai tried to make the sword several times and failed each time. At the last he…well, he drove it into the heart of the one he loved to perfect the blade."

"Killed his wife," said Tyrion. "Yes, he killed his wife and saved the world…so the storytellers would have us believe."

"You do not believe in the prophecy?" Melisandre asked him.

"I believe in what I can see," Tyrion said. "And all I see is a very plain sword with a very sharp blade."

"Aye," said Jon. "You say it is Lightbringer. But how can we prove it? And what good would it do us?"

"Lightbringer saved the world," Arya said.

"A story Old Nan used to tell us," Sansa said to that. "Jon is right, how can we prove it?"

Sam spoke next. "The stories never say what power the sword had…just that it was special and he used it to defeat the enemy."

"After he killed his wife," Tyrion reminded them. "Well, my Queen, and Lord Snow, neither of you is married so that won't work to prove it is what she says it is."

"No," said Arya, looking at Jon. "The legend, I remember, it never said it was his wife, it said…"

Sansa added the rest. "…the one he loved. He had to kill the one he loved to make the sword."

Both of his sisters now looked at him and then their eyes both shifted to Dany.

"Enough," Jon said right away, averting his gaze from them. Dany put the sword back on the table as Jon spoke. "Lady Melisandre, this maybe a special sword but we have no way to prove it. As for your crimes, I will forgo any sentence until the war is over. If you survive, you will be given a fair hearing."

"That won't be necessary," she said. "I will not survive."

Jon ignored this. "You will be confined to your camp. You and your men will not enter Winterfell on pain of death. You will not try to convert anyone to your religion. And if you and your men burn anyone else alive, I will slaughter all of you, to the last. This I promise."

"The Lord of Light is your ally, Jon Snow, not your enemy."

This he ignored as well. "Let's go."

Gendry hesitated. "The sword, my lord?"

"Take it," Melisandre said. "None of us can wield it. It was meant for one of you."

Jon looked at Gendry, hesitated a moment, and then nodded. The smith slid the blade into the sheath and carried it out of the tent.

The shock of cold after the heat of the tent gave them all the shivers. "So?" Bronn asked when they came out.

"If they do any harm to anyone, kill them all," Jon said. "Pass the word."

"Good," said Tormund. "Fucking fire eaters."

Off they walked, back to the south gate. Jon said goodnight to the Queen, and she did as well. As she walked off with some of her Unsullied guards, he stared at her, felt a lingering desire, but was not sure if he would see her tonight. He had too much on his mind and was tired. Just inside the south gate Gendry and Arya stopped him.

"The sword, my lord," Gendry said, holding it out.

"Keep it safe somewhere."

"No," said Arya. "If it is what she said it is, you should keep it. Just…just in case."

"Aye," Jon said as he took the sword. He then bid them good night and they walked off into the castle. Then Jon groaned as he saw Davos coming towards him.

"Well?" the old seadog asked.

"I have stayed her execution till after the war."

Davos fumed. "She's a murderer! Why?"

"We need her men…and maybe her as well."

"I will not stand by while you do nothing."

"You will, ser," Jon said, using his lord's voice. "Let us not break over this, Davos. We have gone through too much together."

"We have. But I loved that little girl like she was my own daughter. And they burnt her, alive. Can you image the horror, with her own parents standing by doing nothing?"

"I…I cannot."

"No, no one can. You saw Mance Rayder burn and you killed him. A mercy, it was, aye. I would have done the same for Shireen if I had been there. But no one lifted a hand to help her. A whole army of men watched and did nothing! The red woman must die!"

"She will. She has seen it in her flames."

"Aye, we all die, some day. But there must be justice. If you don't kill her, I will."

Davos did not wait for his reply, just spun on his heel and walked off. Jon was tired of arguing. He knew Davos wanted her dead, but doing it was something else. Davos admitted he once tried to kill her on Dragonstone and she knew he would do it beforehand and stopped him. Stannis had almost executed him for that. Jon could not do that to the man who was now his friend, and Davos knew it. He would need looking after, Jon knew, or he would probably be killed himself.

Jon went to the great keep, only wanting to sleep, but there was Sam, waiting for him. "We need to talk."

"Aye."

Up they went, to his old room, where he had spent his childhood, small but cozy. Not fitting for a king, but he was not a king anymore.

"So, what's on your mind?" Jon asked when they were inside. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, Sam in the only chair.

"Lightbringer."

"What of it?" The sword in its sheath was lying on his bed.

"We know the stories…what if they are true? What if its real power can only come out if you…"

"Go to bed, Sam."

"Jon…"

"No, we will not discuss this."

"Do you love her?"

"Sam…please."

Sam sighed. "I'm sorry."

Just then a knock came to the door. It was Brienne. "A man just came through the south gate on a near dead horse. Said he was from White Harbor. He's with Lady Sansa now."

They found the man, young, shivering, with a cup of hot tea in hand and a blanket around him sitting by the hearth in Sansa's rooms. The Hound was there, standing over him, while nearby were Sansa and Tyrion, both looking shocked.

"Jon," Sansa said. "He just told us…it's horrible."

"What's happened?"

"White Harbor," the man said, his voice trembling. "Gone. The demons took it over a week ago."

Slowly the story came out. He was a farmer's son, living nearby the town, out cutting wood for the winter, his horse with him to haul the wood home. He saw the demons walking through the woods, heading for the town, so he ran. His family was already gone when he got back, blood on the snowy ground but no bodies. He fled through the forest. A day later he found a White Harbor soldier on a horse. He had a wound and was near death, but lived long enough to tell him what had happened. He took the soldier's horse cause it had a saddle and was stronger than his.

After he was done talking they sent the Hound with him to get some hot food and a place to sleep.

"I must find Lord Manderly and give him this news," said Sansa, and Brienne went with her.

"He's cutting us off from the world," said Tyrion when they were gone.

"What do you mean?" Sam asked.

"He is isolating Winterfell."

"Aye," said Jon.

"Now it seems he is done," Tyrion added.

Jon nodded. "And that means we are next."


	9. Chapter 9

**Game of Thrones Season 8 Chapter 9**

 **Winterfell – Tyrion**

The snow began in the night. When Tyrion awoke in his room he sensed the snow before he saw it. Not that he was used to snow, for in his youth he only saw it rarely, a few winter sprinkles in Casterly Rock and once in King's Landing. Those snowfalls had been small and did not stay on the ground for long. But this was the North, where snow and darkness went hand in hand, and his room in the great keep was very dark and very cold.

He stirred the embers in his hearth and added some small pieces of wood, then opened the small shutters on his window. The sill was rimmed in snow, a thick layer, and outside it was piling up. The sky was grey and he could hardly see the battlements nearby. Two guards he could make out looked like snowmen. The cold awoke him more and the girl as well.

"Shut them, my lord," she said. "And come back and warm me up."

He did as she asked. Her name was Suzanne, with brown hair and eyes, a little on the plump side. He had found her in the kitchens during one of his restless wanderings of the castle. He asked for wine and she said she would take it to his room. He had not expected her to try to seduce him but she did. For a cost, of course. She was a whore on the side, and it was a silver stag for the night.

"The whore house in the winter town only charges a silver star," he had complained.

"Aye, my lord, but I come to you so it costs more."

He shrugged, paid the girl and then fucked her all night. She moaned like a whore at first but then he knew she was no longer faking when she began to shudder all over and dig her fingers into his back.

Little he had to do here and so after that she came back to his room each night. He saw Jaime as well each day, having his lunch with him. Jaime was going mad with boredom, and implored Tyrion to get the Queen to release him.

"Where would I go?" he asked. "Either the cold or the Walkers would get me." It was an old argument but it meant nothing to the Starks.

"I've tried," he answered as they sipped some wine that came with lunch. "The Starks are adamant you stay here. Besides, here you have guards on your door. Out there, anyone could knife you in a heartbeat. And I know one little Stark girl who wants to add your name to her list of dead people."

"So she told me. I think I can handle a little girl."

"Not so little anymore. A deadly assassin." And so Tyrion told him the list of people Arya had confessed to killing and Jaime was not surprised as he had heard some of it already. Tyrion had doubled checked with the Hound to make sure she was not lying.

"Aye, she's a killer all right," the Hound told him. "She's got a list and your sister is at the top."

"She's at the top of everyone's list. Who else is on it?"

"Not you, if that's why you're asking. Your brother, aye, I bet he is now."

Jaime was morose for another reason. Despite all, he still loved Cersei. And someone else loved him.

"Brienne?" Tyrion had said in surprise when Jaime told him this tidbit.

"Yes, Brienne. Big stupid cow of a woman."

He had said it not like an insult, but in a sort of exasperated way. "Do you share her feelings?" Tyrion asked.

Jaime looked surprised and then defiant. "What? No. I mean…how could I?"

"I am not sure. But Jaime, know this, if we win here, next we move on King's Landing. And you must know Cersei will not survive. Cannot survive."

He sighed heavily and nodded. "Just…when the time comes, if it comes, tell Daenerys to let me go into the city, to negotiate with Cersei, to save the people at least. If she has to unleash her beasts many will die needlessly."

"I'll make sure of it."

Another promise he would have to somehow try to keep. He knew it was folly. Cersei would never surrender and cared less about the people than Mad Aerys ever did.

Meanwhile time stretched for Tyrion. He was not a soldier and so had no post to man and thus he was bored to tears almost every day. So he drank, and he whored, and he read, as he had always done when bored. Talking with Bronn and Pod helped some, but they had their duties. He did have some duties as well, and a meeting with the Queen each day was one, trying to solve her political problems. As yet the Northern lords had not bent the knee, so that was a problem. And he was of no help convincing them for they would not even talk to him, a Lannister whose family was hated in the whole North. Ser Jorah tried to convince his young cousin of the need to bend the knee and failed as well. Lord Glover and Lord Manderly were like stubborn donkeys, such was their desire not to bend the knee.

Another issue was the fall of White Harbor, which had caused such distress among those from there, especially Lord Manderly, and more than one voice muttered what use were the dragons if they were never where they were needed. Bran Stark had a raven fly there and through its eyes he saw the place, wrecked and lifeless except for some wights staying by the gates…just standing, doing nothing else. The harbor was empty so they had some hope that many got away on the ships.

"To Old Castle they will go," Lord Manderly said and so a raven was selected, a message attached and Bran flew it there, for none in Winterfell was trained for the place. A whole day he was in a trance, with Meera Reed at his side, protecting him like a worried mother. He was flying the bird there, based on instructions from Lord Manderly, what landmarks to look for and so on. When it arrived he came to and told them the harbor was full of ships and the castle crowded with people. It would take time to return the bird, and hopefully it knew how to come home for Bran was exhausted with the effort. He was also deep in discussion with Lord Reed each day, and what they were about Tyrion had no idea and neither did anyone else, for their meetings were held in secret in the godswood with guards always nearby. Many said their only hope rested with Bran for he was special and would do something to save them all. Tyrion was not so sure of that.

Another thing he had to concern himself with was the future of the Queen's rule, but he and the Queen had both agreed that it was a waste of time to select a small council or which lord would serve here or there when they did not know if they would be alive a day from now. Other than that he and she barely spoke. Besides, she seemed to enjoy spending more time with Jon Snow and his sister Arya…who was not his sister.

Sam Tarly had confessed it all, and swore Tyrion to secrecy. Tyrion knew something was up, and he knew who to press. Sam was a genial fellow, a confessed coward who was not really a coward. He had killed a White Walker, had defied his father, had taken a woman not his wife and her baby into his heart. Yes, he knew that secret too. The men of the Watch liked to dice and talk when drunk and Tyrion was good at both games. Someone called Gilly's boy a bastard one night, and someone else had laughed and said how would you like your grandfather and father to be the same person. Craster, another said, looking right at Tyrion, was a mean old wildling cuss who gave his sons to the Walkers and fucked all his daughters to make more. And then they all agreed Sam would have to give up the woman and babe when the war was over and they had to go back to the Wall. Men of the Watch did not take wives, and neither did maesters.

He found Sam in the rookery, the day after the red woman had arrived and the terrible news had come from White Harbor. He was feeding the ravens with some bloody meat.

"Looks delicious," Tyrion quipped.

"For them it is," Sam said, the birds bouncing around him trying to get the scraps of meat in the bowl he carried. "Can I help you with something, my lord?"

"Yes. I need to talk about Jon Snow."

Sam visibly blushed, turned his head away, and pretended to be busy with the feeding. "What about him?" he asked in a strained voice.

"Who was his mother?"

"I…I can't tell you. It's his secret. Not mine."

"Yes, so he told me. You know Sam…may I call you Sam?"

"Of course."

"Sam…this war won't last forever. Either we'll all soon be dead, or not. And if not, the Queen will need people, good people, to help rebuild the kingdom. She will need maesters, men of intelligence, not those old grey robed fools in the Citadel who would hardly listen to you."

"What? How do you know that?"

"Ser Jorah told us how you cured him, against the expressed orders of the archmaesters not to do so."

"I had to try. He's a good man. His father was our lord commander."

"Yes, and good men will be needed. You will be needed."

"Me? But I'm going to be maester of Castle Black."

"Oh, of course. How silly of me. Yes…well I am sure they will be fine."

"What? Who?"

"Gilly and the baby, of course. Surely you don't think you can take them with you? Men of the Watch have no wives or children."

He blushed again. "She's not my wife, not really."

"Yes, I know…I know everything Sam."

"Everything?"

"Yes, but not to worry, your secret is safe with me. Still, life will not be easy for a mother and her child all alone in the world."

Sam nodded. "I've made plans. I will send them to my family to Horn Hill when winter ends. Now my father is dead that won't be a problem anymore."

"I see. Have it all figured out do you?"

"Yes."

"And how will the people of the south react when they know a bastard and his wildling mother live among them?"

He got a frightened look in his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"You know the way they are in the Reach, all those lords and ladies. Soon they will know the truth. Everyone in the Citadel knew I am certain, and the word has no doubt spread. Who would ever consort with your family in such a situation? You have a sister, yes?"

"Yes, why?"

"Unmarried, I believe."

"Yes."

"Now what suitors will be lining up to marry her?"

"I…I don't know."

"Few yet I am sure. That will change. With your father and brother dead and you in the Watch your sister will inherit it all. That kind of wealth attracts all kinds of unsavory characters. Men who will tell a woman anything to have at her land and wealth and titles. And if she weds then it will all go to her husband. What will happen to your mother and Gilly and the boy then? Nothing pleasant I am sure."

"My sister will protect them."

"Maybe she can. Unfortunately, our wonderful customs give women no rights to their own property, so that means her husband can do as he wishes. But you have a son. Surely the boy can inherit…if he is made legitimate. Then your sister and her husband to be cannot inherit. He and Gilly will grow up in safety and comfort. And someday he will be Lord Tarly."

Sam took a deep breath. "I have thought of this. But I can't prove little Sam is mine."

"That is not a problem. Say he is yours, draw up a writ of legitimacy, affix your name to the parchment, and all will be fine. Once the Queen signs the paper he will be a Tarly for life and none can take that from him. As for you, I am sure the Queen can…"

"I want nothing from her! She killed my father and brother!" Now he was mad. "I know the story. People talk. They surrendered! And she killed them anyway."

"I...I tried to stop it."

"You failed."

"Yes…well, I would offer my apologies but that would do little good. Still, in the matter of your son, I can be of immeasurably aid."

"You will help me if only I tell you about Jon, right? I can't do that. He's my friend."

"Sam, I must know. I know you do not like her, and I understand. But I am Hand to the Queen. I must help her, but she and Jon refuse to tell me anything. They think to protect Jon but they only endanger him by not telling me. Someday someone will find out the truth. Already many suspect. He flies a dragon after all. I will do all I can to protect Jon. He is after all our one great hope if he is this prince who was promised and that sword we saw is the real thing. And I will do all I can to help you and your little family. And remember, I am a Lannister, and a Lannister always pays his debts."

Sam thought and Tyrion could see the strain this was causing him. "I can't betray Jon."

"You are not betraying him. You are helping him."

"Arya said she would kill me if I talk."

"Did she? Well, I would not worry on that. How would her brother feel if she killed his best friend?"

Sam hesitated and Tyrion was about to start using threats, and then Sam began to speak, it all coming out in a rush. And so he told him, everything, and Tyrion was stunned at the implications.

That had been late the day before. To the Queen he went that morning, directly, after lying with the girl one more time. She scurried to the kitchens to help prepare the breakfast, worried she was late, and after she left Tyrion washed, dressed, and made his way to the Queen's rooms in another part of the great keep. He knocked on the door and Arya Stark answered.

"Hello," she said, her voice unfriendly, giving him a look that was both sullen and rude.

"Who is it?" Daenerys asked.

"Lord Tyrion."

"Let him in."

She stepped aside and Tyrion came in. The Queen was behind her dressing screen getting dressed for the day. Her small table was covered in dishes of a half finished breakfast. Feeling hungry he walked over to the table and began to help himself to some remaining bread and honey.

"Good morning, Your Grace."

"Good morning. I'll just be a moment."

"Not to rush. It is snowing heavily and not much will be accomplished today."

Arya closed the door and stared at him as he sat and poured some ale into a cup. Tyrion stared back and then sighed. "I have told you I am not your enemy."

"Your name is Lannister," she said.

"Look, Arya…may I call you Arya?"

"Call me what you like, still makes no difference. You try to protect your brother. I understand. I had four brothers. Only one is still whole. Your father killed one. Ramsey Bolton killed another. And Ser Jaime crippled the last."

"Actually my father did not kill Robb, he was not…"

"Shut up." She said it in such a cold voice he stopped talking. "Your father planned the red wedding. Walder Frey did the killing but he hadn't the guts to do it without your father's backing."

"True. And you killed Walder Frey and I killed my father. So…"

"Enough," said Dany in a stern tone as she came from behind the screen, dressed for the day in furs and wools. "Lady Arya, wait for me outside, please. Lord Tyrion and I have things to discuss."

Arya dipped her head and left without another word.

"Why do you rise to their bait?" Dany asked as she sat opposite him.

"A mere discussion, Your Grace. Nothing to worry about."

"I do worry. They all hate you."

"For good reasons."

"You did not push the boy. You did not kill her other brothers."

"No, but my name is the same as some of those who did. Tainted by association."

"As am I. My father went to war with these people. He killed the Starks' grandfather and uncle. And many more."

"Yes. We are two outsiders trying to make some stubborn fools see the sense of it all."

"Yet you seem to enjoy it."

Tyrion shrugged. "Intrigue and politics go hand in hand. At least it is not boring."

"Yes, you are much bored of late. Sorry, I have been busy training Jon."

"No need to apologize. We will need him and his dragon when the time comes, which should be very soon."

"It's been two days since they attacked the red woman's party. Why do they not attack us?"

"I know not."

"Jon told me something," Dany said. "During the attack he saw a Walker, looking up at him on Rhaegal. Staring directly and then walking away."

"So, by now the Night King knows we have two dragons and two Targaryen riders."

Her eyes widened slightly as she looked back at him. "One Targaryen rider."

She had to know so he told her. "I know everything."

"Do tell." The Queen was no fool. She would give nothing away in case he did not know everything.

"He is the son of your brother and Lyanna Stark, born in a stone tower in Dorne at the end of the war. She died from blood loss just as her brother Ned arrived, after he and some companions killed three of Aerys Kingsguard. Ned Stark was never his father. A lie to cover up Jon's true parentage, to protect him from Robert's anger."

"Gods, who told you?"

"Bits and pieces I have put together from many sources. And I also know about the wedding."

She looked away and then back and he saw she was afraid. "So, you know who is the true heir. Now what?" she asked.

"The secret is safe, for I will not tell anyone. My star is attached to your dragon as it were, and if you fall so do I. And I am sure no one will cry over that. Besides, he does not want the title, so it is yours. And always will be."

"Thank you."

"Sorry I pried. But I had to know. How can I protect you and the crown if I am kept in the dark?"

"As I said it was not my secret to share."

"Yes. Well, that is behind us now."

There was a knock and Arya and Jon came in. "We've got trouble," Jon said without even a hello. He turned and they quickly followed him.

"What's wrong?" the Queen asked as they made their way down the stairs in the great keep.

"The snow, Your Grace," Jon said. "We can't see a thing."

Tyrion knew what that meant. "Are they attacking?"

"Not yet."

Outside the snow came down, so thick they could hardly see two feet in front of them. Jon led the way, his instincts leading them to the north gate. Outside the snow was already a foot or more deep on the ground, all except around the two dragons, where it melted as soon as it hit the watery, muddy ground. Tormund, the Hound, Brienne, and Sansa were already there.

"Never seen snow like this," said the Hound.

"Seen worse," said Tormund. "But that was when there was no dead men about."

Tyrion remembered something. "You said they attacked Hardhome out of a cloud of snow."

"They did," Jon said. "But it came on of us all of a sudden, not like this."

"They could still be right behind it," said Brienne.

"She's right," Dany agreed. "The whole undead army could be out there coming at us right now."

"What do we do?" Sansa asked, a hint of fear in her voice.

"You all know your posts," Jon said. "Sansa, Brienne, the healing ward. Clegane…"

Brienne protested. "I have a Valyrian sword. I should be in the front ranks."

"She should," Tyrion said.

"Right," Jon agreed. "Clegane, go with Sansa, stay by her side no matter what happens."

"Aye, my lord. Come little bird." Off they went, the tall girl beside the hulking brute, soon lost in the snow.

"Arya, sound the alarm and then find the rest," Jon said. "You know the castle even in this. Ser Jorah, Bronn, Ser Davos, Grey Worm, the Northern lords, the Vale, and the Watch. Make sure all are at their posts and have all they need."

"Even the red woman?" she asked.

"Aye, even her lot. Now go."

Arya ran off into the snow back into the castle and was soon out of sight.

"We can't fly in this," Dany said.

"No, we can't," Jon agreed. "But you can mount Drogon and lead him and Rhaegal into the fight."

She gaped at him. "But what about you?"

"I need to be on the ground, to lead and make sure all is well. I need to be able to go swiftly from place to place. I can't do that on Rhaegal's back, not in this weather."

"But our plan was…" she started to protest…but she stopped…as they all heard the scream. And then from the muffled snowing expanse came more screams and then a flare of fire, not far in front of them. And then from up high on the battlements came a warning horn…one blast…then two…and then a third.

"Now!" Jon said to the Queen. "Go!"

She ran to Drogon and was swiftly on his back and moving forward towards the flare of light. Rhaegal turned his head towards Jon, gave him what seemed like a forlorn look, and then followed his mother and brother.

"What shall I do?" Tyrion asked.

Tormund laughed. "Stay out of the way little man. There's killing to be done."

"We need Ser Jaime," Brienne said. "Lord Snow…please. Give him a chance to prove himself, to show he has changed."

Jon hesitated and then nodded. "Aye, go with Tyrion, tell the guards I gave my permission. But if he does anything rash, I'll have his head today."

Brienne mumbled her thanks and turned around and ran back into the castle. Tyrion stopped before following. "Snow…good luck."

"Aye, same to you."

Gods, Tyrion thought as he ran back inside. I should find a nice little corner and hide with a bottle of wine and a nice book and some candles. When the war was over he could emerge and see if they had won. For that's all he was good for now. Oh, he had killed a man or two in the Vale and during the Battle of Blackwater Bay. But they were men. This was different, and all he wanted to do was run and hide. But soon his brother would be out there, and he couldn't leave him alone.

"Brienne! Wait!"

He almost ran into her back the snow was so thick. "I need a sword and armor."

"Bit late for that, my lord," she said. "Very well, we find Ser Jaime and they you will both need arms and armor. Come on, before the fight is over!"

"Oh, I am sure that we shall all have our chance to die before this is all over."

* * *

 **Winterfell – Arya**

There was no need to sound the alarm for Arya had heard the horns blowing and knew what it meant. The waiting was over. The first person she thought of and ran to find was Gendry. He was at the forge with Mikken and the rest and all had put down tools and were donning chainmail and picking up weapons when she arrived. "What's happening, my lady?" Mikken asked.

"They're here. Man your posts. You all know what to do. Good luck."

"And to you," Mikken said and then he turned to his workers. "Come on you lot! Follow me!"

They ran off into the snow and Gendry meant to go with them but she stopped him. "Not you. I need you with me." He had picked up a big war hammer he had been working on and now it seemed finished. "Come on!"

Need you, and don't want to lose you again, she wanted to add, but it wasn't necessary. The night the red woman arrived they had said all that needed to be said to each other.

Back to the great keep they had gone, not saying a word, going to her room, and once inside they had quickly striped off all their clothes and gone straight to bed. As he hugged her and begun to kiss her she said all that need to be said, "I love you."

He stopped, looked at her, and smiled. "Aye, my lady," he said like a Northman. "You I love you too. And have for a long time."

She smiled at the memory of that, but her joy was brief for now she knew not what would happen. "Stay close," she said again.

"Where are we going?"

"Checking on all. First the west gate."

The west gate was also called the hunter's gate for it faced the Wolfwoods and many a time hunters came and went by it when they searched for game in the great forest. Here the forest grew close to the castle and its outer wall. Jon had placed the wildlings here with the men of the Watch, two ancient enemies side by side, both used to fighting at close quarters in wooden lands. They had built a deep trench in front of the castle outer walls and it was filled with wood. As they arrived they were soaking the wood with oil from heavy barrels. As yet they were not under attack. Lord Commander Eddison Tollett saw them and approached.

"What's the word?" he asked.

"Don't know yet," said Arya. "They're out there somewhere. I think maybe the north gate is under attack. But you stay here."

"Where's Tormund?" a big bearded wildling asked.

"With Jon," Arya told them. "Do you need anything?"

"Yeah," said Edd, his tone dour. "All the men in Westeros not doing anything today. But I suppose that's wishing for too much."

"I would wish for the same but it would do no good," she replied. "There's men on the walls above you, ready to rain fire and dragon glass. If it gets bad, retreat."

"Aye, my lady. We know what to do."

"Just making sure."

With that they left them and went back inside, making their way along the inner wall, where many tents were placed and many wildlings and North folk were camped. She saw many with arms rushing to the inner walls, and more looking about helpless. She saw some women, standing there with children, looking sacred and helpless.

"Take the children into the great keep!" she yelled at them. "Across the courtyard!"

She did not wait to see if they obeyed but made her way to the south gate and outside, where the cavalry of the Vale was placed on the west side. The land south of Winterfell was open and rolling, a better place for cavalry than anywhere else. On the west side behind a low barrier of wood she saw long lines of horses and she also found Lord Royce with his commanders.

"What news, my lady?" the Vale lord asked.

"Attack on the north gate, but hold here, my lord!" The wind was stronger here, and the snow was blowing in their faces, making it hard to see and be heard, so she had to shout.

"We'll never see them till they are on top of us!" he complained.

"You have oil, my lord?" Gendry asked.

"Yes!"

"Take some out there and set it on fire. If you hear a scream you know they are coming."

"It will be done."

To the east side of the south gate were the red woman and her men. Arya started that way and Gendry shouted in her ear. "We can't go there!"

"I must check on them!"

"Arya…if I see her again, I don't know what I will do."

"She will die someday…maybe today…but not from us. Okay?"

He hesitated and nodded. "Okay."

They found her easily enough for there were many fires in her camp, and her men were lined up behind a long wooden barricade. In the center she was there, standing on a wagon, looking out into the snow. Arya was about to approach when she saw something else…behind the tents, a man, moving through the snow, a bare outline, crouched, like he was hiding, and he did not look like one of these strange men of the east.

"Who is that?" she shouted to Gendry.

He peered where she pointed and then cursed. "Damnit. It's Davos!"

They caught him behind a tent, a sword in his good hand, and he almost attacked them he was so wound up.

"Gods!" he said in a hoarse whisper. "I could've killed you!"

"What are you doing?" Arya demanded.

"I must do it, leave me do it. I must!"

"No," said Gendry. "They will kill you."

"Aye, maybe," he said. "But she has to die!"

"She will," Arya said. "But not now, not by your hand. If you do it Jon will be forced to take action."

"He wants her dead, too!"

"Yes, but he gave his orders!"

He was about to protest some more when suddenly a huge shout went up. "Here they come!" someone over on the west side shouted.

Arya looked past the tents to the west and there in the snow was a long line of fire and shadows were making it flicker and then she saw the running figures, wights, charging the men of the Vale, some of the wights already on fire.

"CHARGE!" Lord Royce bellowed and they saw the long lines of horses move up, leap the barrier and then charge out into the snow.

And now the attack came their way as well, for as if one hundreds of fire arrows came from the red woman's men and from the walls behind them. In front a huge fire leaped from the wooden barricade and on it wights were impaled and burning and screaming.

And then Arya saw the weak spot, where the road from the south ran up, only a few men were here, guarding the barrier. The Vale men who should have been guarding it were out there hurtling horses into enemies that could not be killed by horse hooves or normal swords.

"The road," Davos said, seeing the problem. "They left the road to the gate unguarded."

"We need more men," Gendry said looking about and all he could see were the Fiery Hand of the red woman. He also saw a man in red robes and he grabbed him

"I need a hundred men!" he shouted but the priest did not understand. "There!" Gendry said as he pointed and the priest understood and began to shout in their strange language.

Just in time, for a horde of wights was charging up the road, a few fire arrows or dragon glass ones hitting them on the flanks, but not enough to make a difference.

"Follow me!" Gendry shouted and he charged. Arya was surprised at him, taking charge so forcefully, for she had always found him so reserved…but maybe it was his king's blood coming through, the blood of his father, the man who had conquered the Targaryens, and a true Baratheon he must be.

But then came the next thought, no, come back, you are not a soldier, not a warrior, I need you, but he was already running, and a hundred red men were behind him, swords out, and the red priest was chanting in a weird voice.

"Fuck me," Davos said. "Come on before he gets himself killed. We've both done too much to save him for that to happen now!"

Arya had Needle in one hand and Dragonblade in the other and as she ran she screamed her battle cry, "WINTERFELL!" And then from above and behind her hundreds of voices screamed the same.

The red men ran past Gendry and into the fray and suddenly all of their swords burst into flame, a hundred red swords flashing in the snow and growing gloom, slicing into wights, setting them on fire. Some Vale horses hit them from behind and trampled them down, but legs and arms still twitched and crawled and broken dead men stood up with half crushed skulls. Some of them went down to arrows and blows but more, many more were coming up the road.

She found Gendry smashing with his war hammer left and right, shattered wights at his feet, some still twitching and she leaped down and stabbed them with Dragonblade and saw them stop moving and knew Valyrian steel could also kill wights.

All was chaos as she stood, the battle madness on her and the rest, and for the next five minutes she killed and stabbed and kicked and punched and screamed like a demon herself, and by her side Gendry and Davos did the same, and all around them were the flashing swords, on fire, and burning wights, and men dying, horses crying out in pain, falling down, and the wounded crawling across the snow, leaving bloody streaks behind them as they did so.

And then Gendry was stabbed, by a dagger, in the upper left hand, just below his chainmail sleeve. He gasped and then swiftly smashed the head in of the wight that had done it.

"Keep fighting!" Davos said as he stabbed the same wight with his dragon glass dagger. "We'll take care of it later!"

Then came a massive burst of flame, in front of the lines where the red woman stood on her wagon. A thousand or more wights must have died in that blast, and the whole field in front was one mass of burning, shrieking, inhuman things.

And then came the quiet. Suddenly the attack ended and the few remaining wights drifted away, gone in the snowy gloom beyond the edge of light made as the flames still burned bright.

They stood there, panting, catching their breath, as all around them red men did the same, dipping their swords in the snow to make the flames go out. Now she saw some were hurt, wounded, and some were dead, and the red priest was dead, a spear through his middle. And she wondered on these strange people, coming all this way, to help her defend her home.

"Come on," she said to Gendry. "To the healing ward with you. You lot, too," she said to some red men nearby. But they didn't understand. "The castle," she said and pointed. "To get healed."

"Your brother forbade it," said Melisandre. She was there, leaning on the arm of a big man, the same one who brought them the sword they called Lightbringer. She looked pale, weak, somehow less beautiful, and aged. She was not so invincible after all.

"They need healing," Arya said. "Do you have a maester?"

"No."

"Then they can come inside. I will take responsibility."

"Thank you."

Arya gave her a hard look. "This doesn't mean we are friends."

"Of course not."

Her man led her away then, to a tent. Davos had stood there the whole time, boiling in rage, but had said nothing. "She looks tired and old," he said at last.

"Yes. Come on."

The guards at the south gate hesitated to let in the red men, but when Arya shouted at them they opened the gates. The snow seemed to be less now as they made their way across the courtyard.

They found the Hound on the door of the healing ward, a long barracks Sansa had converted to a place for the wounded. "Your man got a cut, did he?" he asked with a nod to Gendry.

"Yes, let us in."

"Not them." He nodded back to the red men, about twenty, all helping each other stand, and some had to be carried.

"Them too," Arya said in her stern voice but this was the Hound and would not be budged. "MOVE!" she shouted at him but he was like a rock.

"Your brother said…"

"I don't care what he said!"

"I should just kill the lot, should I? Send them back to their own."

"They're out there bleeding for us," Gendry said.

Sansa was there now. "What's all this?"

Arya quickly explained. "They're dying for us, Sansa."

"Yes, of course, let them in Sandor."

He gave a grunt and then he stepped aside and they came in.

The heat hit them first, then the smell, of blood and piss and shit and fear. Arya was shocked at how many wounded were here, seemingly hundreds, some with no arms or legs, blood pooling on the floor, screams filling the air, maesters and healers busy at work. Sam Tarly stood by as Maester Wolkan sawed off a screaming White Harbor man's left leg, just a shattered piece of meat below the knee now, that Sam held in bloody gloved hands. The saw took the final bite and the leg came off in Sam's hands and he dropped it in a bucket that had several more limbs.

A healer, an old woman, moved to sew the man's leg up with catgut. "Next," the maester said.

"Over here," said Sam and they went to a man with a shattered lower right arm. "Please," he said. "I need it, save it, please, milord. I'm a woodsman, I can't hold an ax with one hand."

"You'll die if I don't take it off," the maester said.

"Please…no…please."

"I must. You have a wife and children?"

"Aye."

"Then some day you and they will thank me. Now we must begin. Other men are waiting."

The man gulped and nodded and they got to work.

"Gods," Arya said. "What happened?"

"They hit every gate at once," said the Hound behind her and she knew it was true. Here were wounded men of the North, wildlings, the Watch, Unsullied, the Vale, and now the red men.

Sansa took Gendry to a basin of warm water and quickly washed and bandaged his hand.

Just then Bronn rushed in. "I need every healthy man!" he shouted.

All looked at him but no one move. "You four," he said to Arya, Gendry, the Hound, and Davos. "Come on."

"Where?" the Hound demanded.

"The east gate. The fucker is about to fall."

* * *

 **Winterfell – Jaime**

He heard the arguing outside and stood from his bed and listened.

"Open it!" Tyrion was saying.

"My lord, we have orders…" a guard began but Brienne cut him off.

"Lord Snow said to release him to join the fight."

"My lady…"

"You know who I am?"

"Aye, my lady."

"Then do it. I would not lie about this. You have my word, on my honor."

There was a pause, then a heavy sigh and the key was in the lock and the door opened. "Jaime," Tyrion said and then he looked at the two guards. "I do not think you are needed here anymore, my good fellows."

They left without another word.

"What news?" Jaime asked.

"They are here," Tyrion said. "Come, Lord Snow has decided you will have a chance to die at Winterfell after all."

"Good…I mean…good."

"Let's go," said Brienne with hardly a look at him, her cheeks flush, and he knew why. She hadn't come to see him since she had kissed him those so many days ago.

Jaime felt stiff, not at all ready to fight, the days of inactivity making him feel rusty. Maybe that was the plan all along…but then he thought on who gave the orders and knew Jon Snow would never be so devious. Too much of his father in him.

Down the stairs they went and outside into a snow storm. The cold and wind almost knocked him down after so long inside where it was so warm. "The armory is this way, I believe" said Tyrion.

"This way," Brienne countered and they followed her and were soon there. As were many men, all taking weapons from hands passing them out a door and then rushing off to the war. Brienne shoved herself inside with the two Lannister men following.

"I need armor and weapons for these men," she commanded. "And get Ser Jaime's sword."

The armorer and his assistant looked at her in suspicion and after the briefest moment of hesitation moved to do what she had said.

"It's because of Jaime, not because you are a woman," Tyrion said to her look of abashment.

"It's both," she said. "Never mind."

The armorer was a big beefy bearded Northman who soon let them know how much he hated them. "Lannisters," he growled. "Here, halfman, a mail shirt Lord Robb once wore as a boy. Should fit you, though it loathes me to give such a fine man's mail to scum like you."

Tyrion ignored him as he pulled on the mail shirt, but Jaime could not let the insult pass. "You are talking to the Queen's Hand."

"Not my Queen. And isn't your sister your Queen now?"

His assistant laughed. "No, his wife way I heard it."

"That will be quite enough," Brienne said in a stern tone. "They are guests of the Starks and you would be good to remember that."

"Oh, we remember," said the armorer. "The whole North remembers what this lot did to ours. Someday there will be a reckoning."

"Well, maybe it is today," Tyrion said. "Come, join us in the fight. Show us how a true Northman fights."

The assistant was a reedy teen with a pimply face, who now paled in fear. "Them demons out there, really?"

"Yes," said Jaime. "And they will be in here soon if you don't get on with it."

They got on with it, giving Jaime his sword which had been hanging from a peg, and found him some armor as well. Tyrion got a short sword and a dagger. A short time later they were walking towards the east gate where they found Bronn and Ser Jorah, who was helping lead the Dothraki and Unsullied. Already a fierce battle was going on out there, with the Unsullied ranks marching in formation through the snow towards the Kingsroad, standing like a wall as the Dothraki horsemen charged on the flanks. Bronn and Ser Jorah stood just before the east gate, looking out over a barrier of wood towards the Kingsroad, which they could barely see.

"Just in time to see it all end," Bronn said. "Fuckers don't stand a chance. Men of the east will win every time."

"Good thing they are on our side," Tyrion said.

"Aye," said Ser Jorah. "But it's not over yet. They are too far in front. Bronn, we need get them back."

"Aye, give the command."

Ser Jorah ran over to the Dothraki commanders who were on horseback and spoke to them and off they went to reign in their men. Then Ser Jorah mounted a horse and rode out in the deepening snow after the Unsullied.

And then it happened. Out of the snow and gloomy clouds came Viserion and a great screeched rippled across the air and all in the castle and beyond heard it.

Down he came, just below the clouds, flying from north to south, hitting the left flank of the Dothraki and Unsullied, and from his mouth came the blue death, striking their ranks and freezing them alive where they stood. A hundred arrows and spears flew up but all seemed to bounce off.

Bronn looked up to the battlements. "FIRE YOU FUCKERS!" he shouted and then after a moment came two distinct _twangs_ and two heavy dragon glass tipped bolts flew off into the air.

One fell short, dropping down just behind the Unsullied ranks, while the other ran true, about to hit the beast, when Viserion somehow sensed the danger and dipped down just in time for the bolt to fly over the dragon. And then he was heading right for the castle, intent it seemed on killing those tormentors before they did the same to him.

"Fuck," Bronn said. "You lads pull back, get as many inside as you can, then close the fucking gates."

"Where are you going?" Jaime demanded.

"For help."

"Help?" Tyrion said as Bronn ran back. "What help? We need the Queen and her dragons! Where are they?"

"There!" said Brienne.

* * *

 **Winterfell – Jon**

The battle madness was on him as he slayed wights left and right and in front and behind. Tormund was there, with Lord Glover and Lord Manderly and a thousand Northmen, all with their blood up, screaming, cursing, killing, and burning wights. Hundreds were dead on both sides, the wooden barrier on fire with dozens of wight bodies on it, but then from beyond their ranks Jon saw a White Walker raising his hands and in mere seconds all the Northern dead arose with blue eyes.

"FUCK!" Tormund shouted. "We have to kill that fucker!"

But the Queen was already doing that. Drogon was on the left with Rhaegal, though they could not clearly see them in the snow, their great gouts of flame marked their presence, and now such flame engulfed the Walker and he turned into nothing and all the wights he had just animate died with him as did dozens of more.

The battle had been going on for more than twenty minutes now, maybe, and Jon was exhausted. Hardly had Arya and Tyrion left him when it began, and then he lost all sense of time. As Drogon moved in front of them, they all heard the screech coming from the right.

"Gods, he's here," Jon said, feeling fear for the first time that day.

Dany knew it too and in mere moments she had Drogon running across the field beyond the battle lines and lifting off into the snowy air.

"RHAEGAL!" Jon shouted and the dragon must have heard him for it came charging through the wight ranks, many spears and swords swinging at his tough hide, hardly scratching him, with him smashing them under foot, clawing others into shreds, and then he was there.

Jon climbed up. "Hold the line!" he shouted back to Tormund.

Off Rhaegal ran and then he was up, barely so, for the snowy clouds were hardly the height of the castle walls above the ground. Rhaegal flew on instinct, to follow his brother. Jon dug his hands into the leather harness and hung on as well as he could.

Around the walls they flew, and then he saw the dragon fight, near the walls upper level. Drogon was diving on Viserion from behind and flames were reaching out and hitting his tail. Viserion screeched and then spun to his left, trying to get behind the Queen, and then as he circled around he was flying right at Rhaegal.

The Night King saw Jon, and Jon almost sensed he was smiling, for then Viserion's maw was opening up and the cold was coming.

Jon screamed, " _DRACARYS!_ "

Fire and ice met each other in mid-air and later people on the ground told him it seemed the two dragons stood on their hind legs in the air, their wings beating, the cone of red flame and blue ice joined at the end…and then ice began to win, pushing fire back, making Rhaegal shudder, the flame weaken and almost go out, and Jon to fear, ...but then she was there.

Drogon let loose a massive blast of fire, striking Viserion just behind the Night King, and the cone of cold went out, and it almost seemed for a moment he would catch on fire. But he did not, for as Drogon flew over him and past, the flames went out and Viserion hardly seemed harmed at all.

But this distraction gave Jon his chance. As the flames and cone of cold disappeared, he knew what he had to do…the only way to end the battle and the war. He had to kill him.

"FLY!" he shouted in High Valyrian. "UP!UP!UP!"

Up into the clouds they went, briefly, and then he shouted "DOWN!" and as they emerged from the clouds he saw through the snow the Night King, right before him, under him, and Jon pulled out Longclaw, let go of the reigns, and he jumped.

Down he went, seeming to float on the air, but he knew that was the battle madness. He could no more fly than could a rock, and that was how he fell, like a rock, but he timed it so hit the Night King, but he missed,…smash! He landed on Viserion just behind the Night King.

And then he was falling, the dragon pitching, Jon having no purchase, slipping, and in his left hip was a great pain, broken maybe, or stabbed by a spine, but somehow he managed to grip a dragon spine, dung his gloved finger tips around it, hung on, pulled himself up, and then the ice sword was swinging at his face.

He pulled back in time, the cold blade just missing his nose and as the counter stoke came Longclaw managed to block it. He pulled himself higher and swung Longclaw, and he hit the Night King's left side…but nothing happened. The blade seemed to bounce off his armor, and the Night King seemed to almost smile.

And then came the fire.

All of a sudden he was surrounded by flames, him and the Night King, and strangely he felt no pain…only warmth…looked to see his enemy die…but the Night King did not die, did not melt or shatter. His ice sword was at Jon's throat now, that hideous grin was there…and then it fell, the grin...and the sword. And then he did a strange thing.

He grabbed Jon by the front of his burning furs and pulled him up face to face, that hideous cold blue eyed face inches from his. And in his head Jon heard a voice, though his enemy's lips did not move or speak.

" _You aren't him. I thought you were but now I know. He was strong, he was able to do what needed to be done. You won't. You can't. I will always be stronger. And now you die."_

And then he shoved Jon off Viserion's back...just after Jon with all his strength used his sword arm to shove Longclaw into Viserion's hide.

As he fell the sword slipped from his hand, and down he went, face up, and he could see the dragon fly off over the forest, maybe to circle, to come back to kill him...and Jon knew he was dead, that the blade had not penetrated through the hide…but then the dragon let go a mighty screech, louder than when it had been hit by the ice spear north of the Wall…and as it flew over the great forest Jon could see it began to fall apart and then...

..with a thud he landed, and felt all the wind leave his body. It was snow, deep, white, new, soft, all around him, and he felt pain coursing through his body. He sat up, gasped in pain…and then realized most of his clothes were burned off, though he did not feel cold. And then Jon heard shouting, and people were running towards him, as were many wights. It was not over yet...and he had no sword.

But Rhaegal and Drogon swooped down and burned them all and soon the survivors were fleeing through the snow and fog into the forests.

The battle was over…they had won, the enemy dragon maybe destroyed. But the Night King had not died, and would not die, even if he fell from Viserion. He was still out there Jon knew.

Then they were there, Arya first, with Gendry, Bronn, Tyrion, Ser Jaime, Ser Jorah, Brienne, the Hound, and many more behind them. Arya was looking at him in shock. "Jon...are you okay?" she asked as Brienne gave him her cloak and helped wrap it around his shoulders.

"I…I don't know."

"What happened?" Tyrion asked. "Is he dead?"

"I couldn't kill him. But I stabbed Viserion."

"We saw him fall to pieces over the forest," Brienne said. "He's dead."

"Maybe that demon king as well," Bronn suggested.

"No," said Jon. "Nothing can kill him."

That gave them pause.

"Jon…your clothes," Arya said. "The fire…the fall…your hip is bleeding…how did you survive?"

"I don't know."

And then the Queen was there. She walked over through the snow from Drogon. She had tears on her cheeks.

"I'm sorry," was all he could think to say.

"No...it had to be done," she said. "I couldn't do it...I had a chance, two chances...and I couldn't."

"Your Grace..."

"No...no apologies. It is done."

"The war is not over," Tyrion reminded them, tempering what little joy they had.

"But now at least we have a chance," Jon said.


	10. Chapter 10

**Games of Thrones Season 8 Chapter 10**

 _Apologies for the delays in this chapter. I work at a university and we had midterm exams last week. I also have a bit of a cold. This chapter is a bit shorter than usual as I have had very little time of late, but I decided to send it out now as I may not get a chance to return to it for a week or so. Enjoy._

 **Kings Landing – Cersei**

She stood on her balcony in the Tower of the Hand and looked over the city, the city she had first come to as a girl with her father and mother and the man she grew to love. That was before the monster came and took her mother away. She had thought the world would be hers. Cersei saw and met Rhaegar for the first time and fell in love like all the young girls did. She was only eight years old, but knew she would marry him some day and be the queen of the world. But like most dreams this one did not come true.

Many she could blame but it all went back to Tyrion. The little monster had killed her mother, had allowed himself to be kidnapped so her family was dragged into a war, had killed her father, had sided with her enemies, had let the other monsters think they were weak and so more of the ones she loved had died. She should have told Ser Gregor to kill him when he had been standing before her. But she had been with child then and had hoped for some kind of future. That was all over with now. She would die, alone, but not before those who had done this died as well.

Cersei turned and came back into her rooms, where it was warmer. Qyburn was waiting for her, standing, and Ser Gregor was by the door. She sat at her desk and nodded to the chair opposite where Qyburn now sat.

"Report."

"The ship has sailed for Braavos, Your Grace, the courier and letters secure. Now all depends on the gods and the weather."

"Let us pray we have some luck. It is time we had some on our side. And the rest?"

"The city defenses are quite irreparable, Your Grace. It would take a thousand masons and their assistants a hundred days or more just to repair the outer walls. If we had the masons and their assistants, the brick and mortar, and the money to pay them."

"So the city is quite defenseless?"

"Quite, Your Grace. All the commanders agree. Whether the Starks and the Targaryen woman win in the North or this Night King prevails, we should not stay here."

"Agreed. What is the most powerful fortress in all of Westeros?"

"I am not a military man, Your Grace, but I've heard it often said Harrenhal is quite formidable. I did spend some time there and its walls are so very high and thick."

"Yes, but it has fallen, several times now. And it is north of here, closer to our enemies."

"Then I would have to say Storm's End, Your Grace. It has never fallen as far as I know."

"Yes, Robert often boasted of his family's home's strength. I found it rather wind swept and rainy the few times we visited, but it was very solid and hard to attack from sea or land. Yes, it will do nicely."

"I shall begin preparations at once. Who shall be coming with us?"

"No one that is not necessary. I will not have a gaggle of useless mouths to feed. We may be under siege for years."

"Surely the fighting men are necessary, Your Grace?"

"Yes, they are. Including the Golden Company. Send them by ship as soon as possible. As for the rest, my servants, my guard, and all the Lannister men will join us. We will go overland while we still can before the snows get too deep. Send word to our few allies to join us there. You have two days to prepare."

"May I suggest we leave at night, Your Grace? To avoid any unpleasantness when the people know we are going."

"Fine. And one more thing. How much wildfire is left?"

"Quite a lot, and we are making more. It is our only true defense against these wights and other enemies."

"Take most of it with us, in a separate wagon train."

"It will be hard to get men to agree to drive the wagons with such a dangerous substance."

"Offer them gold. If they still say no, hang the leaders."

"Of course, Your Grace. You did say most of it. What about the rest?"

"Put it under the Red Keep. When we leave, set it off. I will not have that whore take over my throne."

"A splendid idea, Your Grace. However, I fear it would take much to destroy the Iron Throne."

"As long as the place is a ruin I care not if that chair gets even a scratch."

"I will begin at once, Your Grace. By your leave."

"Wait. There is the matter of the Dornish."

He was already rising from his seat and sat again quickly. "I believe you dismissed their demands as the ravings of lunatics, Your Grace."

"They are. But I have reconsidered, all except for in the matter of Ser Gregor. Send this Lord Yronwood a raven. We agree to all terms except for that one. If he wants to join us tell him to send his army to Storm's End. Who is in command at Storm's End?"

"Ser Cortnay Penrose I believe, Your Grace."

"I vaguely remember him. What do you know of Ser Cortnay?"

"Older than I am to be sure. A prickly man it is said. And loyal to the Baratheons."

"There are no more Baratheons, at least in Robert's line."

"Your Grace, your late husband did sire many bastards."

"Who are inconsequential. As are any cousins and what not. No, with Tommen's death the titles pass to me. Let us make a writ of that at once. And tell this Yronwood if he arrives before I do to occupy Storm's End. If Penrose resists, kill him."

"It shall be done, Your Grace."

He left her then, and she noted how eager he seemed to be done and gone from this place, his sour mood of late changing in an instant. So would many more of her so called loyal subjects' moods when they got the word they were leaving. Qyburn had heard of the mutterings, of how they said this place was death trap, getting colder, and that they should flee south while they could. She resisted the idea at first, because this was the capital and the Iron Throne was the seat of all power. But then she recalled Robert's words, when drunk as usual.

"I hate that ugly iron chair," he grumbled at dinner one night. For once he sat with her and the children, but still he drank himself into a stupor. Jaime and Ser Barristan Selmy and the other Kingsguard were standing nearby, as was the Hound, standing behind Joffrey's chair. "Hard, uncomfortable, not a place to sit long. I should have it destroyed."

Joffrey gaped at his father. "But…it's the seat of power, Father."

"That's where you are wrong!" he shouted and Joffrey visible winced. Robert made a fist. "This is where true power lies, boy. In strength. The Mad King forgot that. Thought because his father was a king he should be too and could do what he wanted. Never forget that boy. You will be king when I am gone, but don't think that ugly chair is yours by right. If you can't hold it someone will knock you off of it!"

That was the only time she could recall Robert advising Joffrey on being a king. He was right of course. Strength was the key to power. Here they had no strength anymore, the ice dragon had seen to that. At Storm's End the walls were stouter, stronger. They could hide for a decade if they had enough food.

Yes, he had advised Joffrey, but like in all things Joffrey had never listened. He thought he was king by right, and had said it often enough, "I am the King!" They tried to knock him off the throne, starting with Ned Stark and then Robert's brothers…and when they couldn't do it then they killed him, her son, poisoned by that crone and that whore Sansa. She should have killed her too when she had the chance, so many chances…all slipped away now.

Cersei walked to her balcony again and stared north. Where were they now, those demons? Were they killing all her enemies? She hoped so. She hoped that fool Snow and the whore Targaryen and Tyrion and all the rest were crushed underfoot. Sansa most of all, and her death she looked forward to almost as much as Tyrion's. She had tried to be friends with Sansa, to be the mother that was absent, but Sansa had betrayed her. After the little monster, her death would be the sweetest of all.

* * *

 **Winterfell – Sansa**

The attacks came at them day and night for three days. Hordes of wights charged the gates, and good men and women died defending them. Each time the dragons arose from the inner castle and came out to spew fire and destruction, and each time the remaining wights melted away into the fog and snow that seemed constant. Twice White Walkers had thrown ice spears at the dragons and twice they had missed, once barely so, missing Drogon by a hair. The Night King had not shown himself again, but they knew he must be out there somewhere, still driving his legions on to destruction.

And now the outer defenses were gone, and all that were left were inside the castle, manning the walls and the four gates. A thousand Unsullied and a few hundred Dothraki manned the east wall and gate, all that remained of the Queen's once large army. Many had been frozen by Viserion on the march here and in the first battle. Grey Worm was wounded in the left leg but still kept the command.

The south gate was held by the remaining men of the Vale and the red woman's fierce fighters. After the battle Sansa had told Jon about the wounded she had allowed into the healing ward and he had given his assent to this. And later when they were pushed back inside nothing was said about his earlier order to not let them or her into the castle. As for Melisandre, she was hardly seen, sleeping when there were no attacks, and coming forth to bring fire on the wights when there were. A few people who saw her said she seemed older, slower, less like the woman she once was.

The west gate was held by the Watch and wildlings, with few remaining, bolstered by the small folk who had taken refuge in the castle. Outside the Wolfwoods was on fire, caused by the dragons during an attack. Thick black greasy fingers of smoke climbed into the sky and the smell of smoke was everywhere. At least the fires stopped too many wights from using the woods to come close to the walls.

The north gate was held by the Northerners, few that remained here as well. Jon led them, despite his aches and pains from his attack on Viserion. His hip was cut deep from a dragon spine, and his back ached with every step he took. Only the deep snow had saved his life. All hailed him as a hero for killing the ice dragon, but Jon felt like he had failed. When they finally got him back to the castle and into his room Sansa was told where he was and what had happened and so she and Sam had rushed to his side. As Sam mended his wounds, Jon told everyone to leave except his sisters and Sam, even the Queen and Tyrion. And then he told them what the Night King had said in his mind during their brief encounter.

"Bloody hell," Arya said quietly.

"He means you must kill the one you love," Sam said right away, as he cut some linen to make a bandage for Jon's bleeding hip.

"Or she must kill him," Sansa countered. Jon gave her a look of despair. "Sorry, but it does seem that way," Sansa said.

"Do you love her?" Arya asked, staring right at him.

Jon sighed and then nodded. "Aye. And she loves me."

"There must be another way," Sansa said, fearing what they were talking about would come to pass.

"You tried to stab him with Longclaw?" Arya asked Jon.

"I did. No good. And the dragonfire didn't kill him either."

"Nor you," Sam said. "It's your blood."

"What do you mean?" Sansa asked. "No one is immune to fire. No one human at least."

Sam finished tying the bandage around Jon's hip and stood up. "She is," Sam said. "Lord Tyrion was drunk one night and spoke on her and fire. Said twice she has been in huge fires and came out without a burn both times."

"Lady Mormont said that Ser Jorah said the same," Arya added. "He was there both times, in the east, saw it all. First time was when her dragons were born, he said."

Sansa looked at Jon who was in a daze. "How is it possible?" Jon asked.

Sam shrugged. "I can't explain it. There is no history of Targaryens being immune to fire. In fact, at Summerhall, a whole bunch died in a great fire."

No explanations, no reasons, none of it made any sense. But Viserion was gone and so was Jon's sword Longclaw.

"We could look for it," Arya said. "It must have fallen to the ground after he melted away. It could be out there."

"And so are they," Jon replied as he looked at a wall peg where Lightbringer hung in its sheath. "Arya, pass it to me, please."

Arya turned around, took it down and gave it to him. Jon took the sword out and they all saw the blade again…and again it looked nothing special.

"I've lost Longclaw and only the gods know where it is now," he said. "This may not be Valyrian steel, but we know it is sharp enough." He put the sword back in its sheath and lay it on his bed. Then he tried to stand, and let out a great groan of pain and sat again on his bed.

"Stay put," Sansa said in what she hoped was a stern tone. "Get some rest."

"What if they come back?" Jon asked.

"I think we can handle it," Arya said. "Now Viserion is gone, we have a fighting chance."

But she was wrong. A hundred thousand wights were out there, their numbers fewer after each attack, but so were the defenders, and many they could not burn arose again with icy blue eyes. Many a man saw his dead comrades now fighting for the other side and felt a chill horror at the sight.

The growing list of the dead and wounded made Sansa feel powerless. Lord Royce had died on the first day and she had wept for the man who had done so much to help her in her battles with Petyr Baelish. When his men foolishly charged out into the snow he had been struck down from his horse and stabbed to death before his men could save him. They found him after the battle with a dozen stab wounds. He was burned with the rest of the dead men and horses in a great bonfire.

Eddison Tollett, dour Edd to Sam and Jon, Lord Commander of the Watch, died at the dawn on the second day. As he stood up behind the western wooden barrier to see what was what, a barrage of arrows and spears came out of the fog and gloom and one caught him in the throat. He died drowning in his own blood, gasping, trying to speak his last words but unable to. Jon and Sam were crushed, and in a brief moment of rest they and the few surviving Watch members gave Edd his final goodbye. There were so few left and all were so busy they decided not to hold an election for a new leader until there was time…if ever.

Lord Glover took a bad wound the second day, his left arm severed just above the wrist. He still lived, still insisted he could fight with his one good arm, but he was feverish and weak.

Podrick Payne had taken a dagger to the left side and lay in the healing ward, drifting in and out of a feverish delirium. It had happened at the north gate, when they were retreating inside. Jon, Brienne, Arya, Gendry, Sandor, Ser Jaime, Ser Jorah, Bronn, Tormund, and Pod were the rearguard as the Northern forces pulled back and ran inside the outer gate and across the bridge and moat to the inner castle. Jon was alike a demon, fighting with unmatched fury, the sword called Lightbringer alive in his hands, wreaking havoc on the wights, and it seemed to kill them the same as Valyrian steel and dragon glass. The others also gave a good account of themselves, but somehow a wight got through and stabbed Pod. Sandor had picked him up and carried him to the healing ward. At first it seemed like a scratch but it festered and now he was barely hanging on. They gave him a bed in the great keep in a small sleeping cell guards usually used. Tyrion and Brienne hovered over him, wringing their hands in despair when they had a free moment.

"Not you, Pod," Sansa overheard Tyrion saying late in the morning on the fourth day, his voice breaking, standing in the door of the sleeping cell. "Not you, too. The gods would not be that cruel."

Tyrion heard her approaching and turned. He was half off his feet, tired as the rest were, eyes red from lack of sleep and sadness. She had brought him a cup of broth. "Drink this, it will help you feel better."

"Thank you, but wine always seems the better choice in such cases."

"You and wine have spent far too many nights together, my lord."

He stepped from Pod's door and took the offered cup and sipped. "Ah, it's very good. My compliments to the cook."

"I believe you know her. Suzanne."

Tyrion was taken aback but just for a moment and then gave her a half smile, a slight grin. "Seems she can do more than one good thing."

Sansa just stared at him. "I care not who you bed, my lord, but please be more discrete. People know we are still husband and wife."

"Yes, my wife, who…never mind. Sorry. I will stay away from her from now on."

"Good."

Sansa was about to turn away when he spoke again. "There is a septon here, from a nearby village. Or so I heard."

Sansa knew who he meant. An old man, a traveling septon, who went from village to village in the North offering prayer and his services. She knew why he mentioned him and what he wanted. "Yes, I know of him. The writ of annulment has already been drawn up. We can go to him now if you wish."

He paused, sipped his broth, and then nodded. "Yes. Let us be done with this sham of a marriage before we all get killed."

A healer just arrived to look in on Pod. "Still the same," Tyrion told her and Tyrion handed her the cup and told her to give it to Pod if he awoke. They went outside the great keep in the cold and mist and found Sandor waiting for her, as always when he was not at the gates. "Sandor, do you know where Septon Breton is?" Sansa asked.

"Why would I know?" he asked in return, his mood darker than usual these days. "I'm not a pious man, little bird. You know that."

"Just…never mind. I will find him."

They followed her, as she walked to where the smallfolk tents were standing inside the main courtyard.

"You know, Clegane, I am amazed," Tyrion said as he struggled to keep up with their long strides.

"What bug's up your arse now, little man?"

"Just amazed at how long you have kept you head all these years, being such an insolent cur."

Sandor grunted. "Aye, I have a big mouth. What of it? Better than dancing around with words way you do. And don't say you never mouthed off to any higher borns, cause I know you did."

"Yes, but you see I am also a higher born, so it is a little less dangerous for me to do so."

"Leave it be," Sansa said in irritation. She knew he would go on forever. And she knew Sandor would not change.

"Why do you want a bloody septon for anyway?" Sandor asked.

Tyrion answered. "It is time our sham of a marriage was ended."

"Good," Sandor grunted.

"Good?" Sansa said in surprise and she stopped and looked at him.

"Aye, little bird, good. You never wanted it and neither did he."

"True," Tyrion said.

Sansa kept looking at Sandor and his eyes would not meet hers. "What?" he finally said as he looked at her, his lanky hair falling over his scars and half his face.

"Nothing…nothing. Let's go."

They found the septon, a rotund bearded man in shabby grey robes, explained what they needed, and in a short time they were back in her solar, the parchment before them, Sandor standing by the door.

"So," said Septon Breton. "The writ looks good. As you must know, normally in case of annulment there must be just cause, my lord and lady. Is there a reason to end this union made before gods and men?"

"A cold marriage bed," Tyrion said. "In fact, we have never shared a bed. Or anything else, except some dirty looks, some tears, and occasionally a meal and a laugh or two."

"My lady?" the septon asked. "Is it true?"

"Yes, all of it. A forced marriage, by his father. Wanted by neither."

"Then there is nothing more to say," the septon said. "Except of course for my fee."

Tyrion dug into a pocket and pulled out a gold dragon. "I'd give you more but all my funds are tied up in Casterly Rock at the moment."

"Not to worry, my lord, it is more than sufficient. Affix your sigil stamps in wax and you are now no longer husband and wife."

Tyrion affixed his sigil stamp as did she, and so it was done. "Good-day," the septon said and he was soon gone.

There was an awkward silence. Tyrion gave her half a grin again. "Well…I think I will get drunk now. Clegane, care to join me?"

"Unlike you I may find myself with killing to do later," Sandor said.

"Well, I am sure Bronn will help me to cel…help me."

"You were going to say celebrate," Sansa said.

"I was, but it occurred to me there is nothing to celebrate. I killed the woman I truly wanted to marry when she betrayed me. So…so…the wine awaits."

He waddled out of the room and Sansa felt sorry for him and all that he had lost.

She sat at her desk to look at some parchments with reports but then just sighed and stared off into space. She looked over at Sandor. "Will it never end?"

He knew what she meant. "Aye, it will…one way or another."

"Is this all our life will be, killing and dying?"

He shrugged. "Not much different from my life before."

"Wasn't there anything else in your life? A family?"

"You know what my brother is."

"What about a woman…love?"

"No…never."

His voice was strained and she barely heard the words and suddenly a flood of memories came back, of all the times she had been with him. "Sandor…why did you say 'good' when you heard what we were doing?"

"I said already."

She didn't know why she was doing it but she knew there was more to it, and she had to know. "That night…of the Blackwater…why did you offer to take me home?"

"I was running away. Thought you wanted to also."

"I would have slowed you."

"Had to keep you safe…do something…something…good…for once."

She stood and crossed the room in quick strides and as she did so she saw he was flinching, looking away. "No…tell me the truth…please."

Now he did look at her, glaring…and then the glare fell, flared out, his eyes dropped and his words were soft, gentle. "All my life I have been a mean dog. Killing and hacking and doing what they told me to do. Killed your sister's butcher's boy, helped Joffrey try to kill your brother, killed your father's men in the throne room, kidnapped your sister for the ransom, scared you half to death a dozen times. I…"

"Saved me from the rapists," she began. "Gave me your cloak that day in the throne room, wiped the blood from my face when I was hit, saved Arya from a certain death on the road, at the Twins, at that inn. You joined men who tried to kill you, went north of the Wall to try to unite the kingdom, buried a man and girl you found dead…"

"Cause I once stole from them. Ask Arya, she was there."

"So you were trying to redeem yourself to them. And now you are here, doing what you can to protect my family and home, the North…the world…and still you beat yourself up, think you are no good."

"Good deeds do not erase a man's crimes, little bird."

"Yes…they do. You are not a bad man Sandor Clegane…I would not have you in my service, in my home, if I thought so. I…I…"

She could not think of the way to say it, how she truly felt, but then there was a knock on the door. It was Brienne, her face ashen. "Pod, my lady…he has died."

They burned him in the courtyard, with a dozen more that had died in the healing wards. Tyrion was teary, shaking, and by his side Brienne was not much better. Bronn struggled to hide his emotions but he was having a hard time. He took the torch from a stand and stepped to the bodies piled on wood.

"Good-bye, my friend," Bronn said in a quiet voice as he lit the oil soaked wood.

Septon Breton said the funeral rites as the bodies burned. Arya and Gendry, Jon and Sam stood by Sansa's side. She did not know how to feel. Pod had helped save her life, was in as much her service as Brienne and Sandor were, but she was too weary from all the deaths to feel anything but numbness.

Just then the Queen flew down on Drogon with Rhaegal not far behind, landing in the godswood, where there was more space for them. The demons had not attacked all morning and so she went up on patrol to see if she could find them.

Jon spoke. "Let us find out what she saw."

Sansa, Arya, Gendry, and Sam followed and were soon joined by Ser Davos and Ser Jorah. The Queen was on the ground by Drogon when they arrived, and both dragons were licking up water from the godswood pond.

"Your Grace," began Jon. "What news?"

"Nothing," Daenerys said. "I saw nothing."

"They must be hiding in the forests," Arya said.

"It's already past the noon hour," Ser Davos told them. "They usually attack by now."

As they discussed what it meant Sansa stared over at the weirwood on the opposite side of the pond. There was Bran, in his chair, with Meera and Lord Reed by his side, as they had been for three days when not sleeping or eating, just talking, with Bran drifting in and out of his trances, but not telling anyone what they were doing.

Jon stood by her and looked where she was looking. "Has he said anything?"

"No," she told him. "They haven't either, not since that first day."

Ser Jorah spoke. "If he knows something, some way to defeat them, we must find out."

"Leave him be," Sam said. They all looked at him. "I mean…he is training, learning…when he's ready he will tell us."

"If we are all dead it will be too late," said Daenerys. "I must know."

She started walking towards them when suddenly a horn blew…one blast, two…then nothing more.

Jon and the Queen raced for the dragons, but then Jon stopped and looked at Sam. "Two blasts…wildlings? Enemies?"

"Or friends," Sam said.

"Or a mistake?" Gendry suggested.

"Go to the gates," Daenerys said. "I will take Drogon up for a look."

"No, wait," Jon said. "Let them rest a bit. There will be time if it is the enemy."

Without another word Jon walked towards the gates and all except the Queen followed. Soon they learned a large party of people was outside the south gate. People…not wights.

Bronn, Tyrion, and Brienne were already there, the funeral pyre still burning behind them. "Who is it?" Jon asked.

"The men on the battlements say our guests are the iron born," Tyrion told them.

"Open the gates!" Jon shouted. Up went the portcullis and the thick oaken wooden outer doors were opened.

There stood a large party of people, several hundred, some on horses, many not, with horse and mule dragged wagons full of supplies behind them. All were armed and armored for war. At their head stood Theon Greyjoy and a woman Sansa could easily see was his sister, Yara, both with the Greyjoy kraken embossed on their armor.

"Tyrion, Sansa, Arya, Davos, come with me," Jon said as he walked across the snowy bloody ground towards the iron born.

"Jon," Theon said as they approached. "This is my sister, Yara."

"Lord Snow, is it?" Yara said. "My brother tells me you spared his life once."

"I did," Jon said. "He saved my sister, Sansa, Lady of Winterfell."

"Hello," Sansa said to the warrior woman, who gave her a long look that made Sansa feel as if she was being sized up for some reason.

"Lady Stark," Yara said. "My brother said you were fetching, but not how much."

Sansa only felt confused at this comment, but knew how to act. She smiled and spoke. "Thank you. You are welcome to…"

"Wait," Jon interrupted and stared at first Theon and then his sister. "You both know the people of Winterfell have no love for any of you. Why are you here?"

"To fight the demons," Yara said. "But it seems they are gone."

"You didn't see any on the way here?" Tyrion asked.

"Aye, we did," said Theon. "Last night. We camped near Castle Cerwyn. They saw us, we saw them…and they kept going…thousands of them, least what we could see in the dark."

"Heading where?" Davos asked, an urgency in his tone.

"South," Yara told them.

"Gods," said Tyrion. "South…why did they stop their attacks here?"

"Cause we held them," said Jon. "Now they will wreak havoc on the people."

Suddenly Lord Manderly was beside them. "Have you come from White Harbor?" he asked the Greyjoys.

"Nearby it," said Theon. "Lord Manderly?"

"I am. What news have you?"

"Your city is gone," Yara said. "But your family is safe, as are about five thousands more. Your son leads them at Oldcastle."

"Thank the gods," Manderly said.

"And Varys?" Jon asked.

"Still alive," Theon told him.

"I believe we asked you to hunt down your uncle," Tyrion said. "Gave you our fleet. What has happened?"

"Euron is dead," Yara told them. Quickly they explain the story of how he died, as far as they knew it.

"She has lost the baby?" Tyrion asked.

"So Qyburn said," Yara told them. "Murdered by Euron. Listen, are we going to talk out here all day or are you going to let us in? It's cold and we have come far."

Sansa spoke right away, to finish what she had earlier begun. "Yes. You're welcome."

"Not by everyone," Arya said in a cold voice and then she turned on her heel and walked back inside the gate to stand beside Gendry.

"Sorry," Sansa said to the Greyjoys.

"No, I understand," said Theon, looking pained. She knew why, for he was coming back to the place where all his personal demons lived. "They all hate me," Theon continued. "Maybe I should stay out here."

"No," Sansa said. "All are welcome who have come to help us. Even old enemies."

And so the iron born, about four hundred and some, marched into the castle they had once attacked. As they did so, Jon spoke to her.

"Not everyone will love them. There may be trouble."

"The people will respect my wishes or they can go out into the cold."

"Fine words," said Tyrion. "Now, what are we going to do about the enemy?"

"What can we do?" Davos asked. "We can't follow them. Not in the open, in the cold."

"No, we can't," Jon said. "But the Queen and I can, on the dragons."

"Jon, that is madness," Sansa said, worry in her tone and on her face.

"Yes, I quite agree," said Tyrion. "One ice spear and he will have another dragon. Cersei wanted to leave us in the lurch. Well, now it is time she got a taste of it herself."

"How many tens of thousands will join his army when they die down south?" Jon asked. "And how many demons will come north again when they are finished with the rest? A million? Two? More?"

"Ah, yes," said Tyrion. "That is a dilemma."

"What about the boy?" Davos asked. "What about Bran? He must be able to do something."

"Aye," said Jon, his eyes set and determined. "And it's time we found out what."


	11. Chapter 11

**Game of Thrones Season 8 Chapter 11**

 **Winterfell – Bran**

His training began with a story, of how Howland Reed met Bran's father, uncles, and aunt many years ago. Lord Reed had gone to the tournament at Harrenhal in the Year of the False Spring, a tournament that had profound influence on history to come. Rhaegar Targaryen met Lyanna Stark, they fell in love, and did what they did which caused the deaths of many and which tore the kingdoms apart.

Of course, no one knew that would happen then. Winter seemed to be over, the weather was beautiful, and many lords and ladies came together for what was supposed to be a time of enjoyment. But the Mad King decided to attend, Lord Reed told him, suspicious of what his son and the other lords would speak on in his absent. Later, Bran's father told Lord Reed that it was Varys' doing, whispering in the Mad King's ear, telling him not to trust Rhaegar, his son and heir. Already paranoid, the Mad King went to Harrenhal, and shocked the people by his appearance. Long hair, uncut fingernails, smelling worse than he looked, and all knew his madness had only deepened.

"Perhaps they would have done something," Lord Reed said as they sat in Bran's room. "But they were divided. Tywin Lannister had refused to come to the tournament, for he still felt the insult of Aerys refusing Cersei for his son, even years later. No lord wanted to make a move without Lord Tywin's powerful army at their side. And some didn't trust him, thinking he was just feigning hatred of the Mad King, and it was all a plot to bring the snakes out of the grass so they could cut their heads off."

"Was it?" Bran asked him

"No one knows, but as we know Lord Tywin sided with Aerys' enemies in the end. And now they are both dead. As for the details I know not much except what your father told me years later. I was not seen as a high lord in those days. No one knew me, and I was young and full of desire to see the world. So I left our swampy home. What happened next at the tournament is a tale for another day. For now, I will tell you what I did before it began, and how I know what your destiny will be."

Bran listened eagerly, wanting to know everything he could about being the three eyed raven.

"First, I did not stop in Harrenhal but passed it by. I floated down the rivers and streams from my home in a small boat made of reptile skins. It was light and small and so I could carry it in the few places where I had to cross land. Finally I reached the lake called God's Eye, located near Harrenhal. It was still in wintertime, though there was no ice on the lake. On the boat I took a trip across the waters of the great lake. There, on the Isles of Faces, I found many things."

"The green men are supposed to live there," Bran said, eager to hear more about what Old Nan used to tell him in her stories. "Did you see them?"

"You can find that out yourself, Bran," Lord Reed told him.

"How?"

"You know how," Meera said.

Bran knew. "I need the tree."

"No, you don't," Lord Reed said. "You can do it without touching a tree."

"I can't."

"Do you need the tree to talk to the ravens?" Meera asked. "Did you need it to control Hodor?"

"No…but that's different."

"It is not," Lord Reed said. "It just seems different, but it is all of the same gift you have been entrusted with. Just close your eyes and search into the past. Find the Year of the False Spring, the tournament at Harrenhal, then before, and find me on the Isle of Faces. Then you will begin to understand."

Bran was not sure if it would work but decided to try. He did as he was told and he closed his eyes. At first all he could sense was the room they were in, the heat of the fire in his hearth, the smells of his two companions, earthy, of animals and mud and fish and swamps…and then snow, he smelled snow, fresh snow…and he was walking, on the ground…by a great lake, but there was no snow. The air was fresh and crisp, the sky blue, and the trees and grass all in front of him was green.

He turned and there was the massive castle, huge, imposing, towering into the sky. Then he heard music and walked that way and soon saw many colorful pavilions and trestle tables with benches, and a grand reviewing stand made of wood, overlooking a jousting field. People shouted and cheered as two knights charged each other and clashed in a clatter of steel. Sigil flags were everywhere, and Bran knew them all, from what Maester Luwin had taught him. And there among all the flags he saw the grey wolf on a white field of Winterfell.

Suddenly a voice was in his head. "Bran, what do you see?" It was Lord Reed.

"I found the tournament. I see my father's sigil…my sigil."

"Good. Now go back farther."

"No…I want to see them…him."

"Bran…very well. But do not tarry long."

Bran walked that way, quick steps, through the pavilions, around the tables groaning with food and drink and revelers, past running children, servants carrying tankards of ale and mead, past the horses and the knights getting ready with their squires helping them don armor. And there was his father's tent…and a young Eddard Stark was standing there, talking with a man who could only be a young Robert Baratheon. He looked so much like Gendry that Bran at first thought it was him.

"They are asking, Ned," Robert was saying.

"You know I never joust."

"The melee at least. People will say you are a coward. Your brothers, too."

"Aye? And who will say it to our faces?"

Robert laughed. "None, cause I'll smash their teeth in if I hear it."

"No, do not trouble yourself over me."

"A joke, you dour man. So, you Stark men never joust, never fight in the melee. Maybe your sister will join the lists?"

"She would if they let woman join."

"Never happen. And so more glory for me." Then he took out a sack of coins and gave it to Ned. "Bet it for me. Fifty dragons."

"On who? In what?" Bran's father asked.

"On me, of course!" Robert said with a great laugh. "To win the melee!"

"Where do I place such a bet?"

"Ask around. Brandon will know. I am off."

"Good luck."

Robert held up a great ham sized fist. "I don't need luck when I have the strength of ten men!"

He walked off then and left Bran's father standing in the morning sunlight looking confused by the sack of coins in his hand.

"He talks too much," said a woman and Bran gasped, for there she was, his Aunt Lyanna, stepping up to stand beside his father. "Drinks too much, eats too much. And the other thing as well."

"Aye, he does. But he is my friend."

"Has he asked about me again?"

"He would ask Father, not me."

"Tell him no if he does."

"Lyanna…I can't do that. He says he loves you."

She made a scoffing sound. "Love? It's food and drink and fighting and other women he loves. Do you know he has a bastard daughter in the Vale?"

"Who told you that?"

"I heard. Is it true?"

Ned sighed. "Aye. And you never heard it from me."

"He is not the man for me," she said.

"Maybe not."

They were silent for a moment and then she noticed the sack of coins. "What is it?"

"Fifty dragons. Robert wants me to bet it on him in the melee."

She shook her head. "A gambler as well. Fifty dragons would feed a hundred smallfolk for a half a year or more. Wasteful. Don't do it."

"If I don't and he wins he will be angry."

"Let him be angry." She turned around and walked off.

"Bran…Bran!"

"Yes I am here."

"Too much time has passed," said Howland Reed's voice in his head. "The enemy attacks the gates of Winterfell. You must find me on the Isle of Faces."

Bran didn't want to leave, but knew time was not a luxury he had. He forced his mind away and back farther in time, as he had been taught. In front of him his father disappeared and then the people, the tents, everything was gone, and now the ground was covered in snow. He turned to face the great lake, ice free despite the cold.

"I cannot see the island from here."

"It is there," Lord Reed told him. "Imagine it and you will be there."

Bran did so and then he was there. On a beach, snow covered ground, tall trees standing in great ranks, a path going through the trees…and by the beach pulled up into some bushes was a small boat. Green and scaly looking and Bran guessed it was made of the hides of lion lizards that lived in the swampy home of the Reeds.

He walked towards the path and then through the forest for a long while, the path bending and twisting…and then came a clearing…a great circle of weirwood trees was there and in the trees among the red leaves were hundreds of ravens, their cawing stopping suddenly as Bran stepped into the circle of trees with faces carved into their trunks.

"He is here," said a man's voice.

Bran looked for the speaker but could not see him. Then a form stepped out of the nearby trees and Bran gasped.

It was a man but not a man, covered in leaves that grew from knobby protrusions that looked like the stubs of loped off branches. He was tall, taller than a normal man, and his skin where he could see it was mossy green like Leaf and the other Children of the Forest, and his eyes were also green. He had a thick mossy beard which spouted flowers in bloom. As for hair he had brown hair all in a tangle, growing short on top and long down the sides to his shoulders. Bran could not say how old he was, but he was sure he had lived for a very long time, like the trees that surrounded them.

"Welcome Brandon Stark," he said. The man's voice sounded and felt like a soft summer breeze wafting through the woods.

"Hello. I am looking for Lord Reed."

"I am here, Bran," said Lord Reed and this time it was not in his head. Lord Reed was behind him and now stepped into the circle of the trees. He was younger, and looked more like the man Bran had seen at the Tower of Joy. He wore furs and skins and had a trident pitchfork in his hand and a long bronze knife at his side. "Welcome. We have been waiting for you."

"How did you know I was coming?" Bran asked. "I haven't even been born yet."

"I know because I am very old and long I have had the sight," the green man told him. "And through me Lord Reed can see and hear you. We have been talking, he and I, and much has been explained about what has gone on and what will go on. I told him about you and what you will become. Now it is time for your lessons to continue. What the man who called himself the Three Eyed Raven had no time to tell you, I will now impart."

"I am ready," Bran said with eagerness.

"Good. First, we go into the past," the green man said. "Come, take my hands, both of you."

Bran and Lord Reed stepped into the center of the circle of weirwoods and the green man stood beside them, his arms outstretched. They took his hands and suddenly Bran felt himself being pulled away, far away…

…and then they were standing on a rocky hillside and in front of them were hundreds of people, men, women, children, walking or riding on horses, heading to the west towards a setting sun. The people wore leathers and woolen clothing, and the men carried swords and daggers, spears and axes, had wooden shields, and wore what looked like bronze armor. All of the people carried bundles and many horses had heavy loads. The land was narrow and to the right and left were waters, waves smashing on the rocky shores.

"Who are they?" Bran asked.

"The First Men," the green man said. "They migrated from Essos to Westeros thousands of years before the White Walkers came. They came across a land bridge where now only waters and fish live. They wanted new lands for their growing numbers, but in Westeros they found the land not fully empty. They warred with the Children of the Forest for many generations, neither able to defeat the other."

Then the scene shifted and Bran was standing among the weirwoods again, with the green man and Lord Reed, and nearby were more people. The weirwoods around them seemed smaller, younger, but all were still here…but they had no faces. And the people were the Children of the Forest, many of them, all so alike he thought one might be Leaf. Talking to them were men, bearded men, tall and broad and with bronze armor and weapons…the First Men.

There he was as well, the green man…and several more like were with him, and some even looked like women.

"Yes, there were once many of us," the green man said, a sadness in his tone. "Now I am all that remains. Here we have a meeting between the leaders of the Children and the First Men. We brokered a treaty with the two sides to end the destructive war. The Children would keep their deep forests homes and the First Men would stay on the coasts and in the towns and villages. The Pact of the Isle of Faces kept the peace for a thousand years. To honor the Pact the children carved a face in each of the weirwoods here."

Now the scene shifted again, and this time they were in the same place but it was later, the trees had carved faces, and were bigger and older.

"Let us walk," said the green man and he took them down another path. After a short time they came to a familiar place, an open space with a circle of stones.

"I know this place," Bran said.

"Yes. He took you here," the green man replied.

"What is it?" Lord Reed asked.

"It is where the end of the world began," the green man said.

Now they could see the Children, walking into the area, dragging a bound man with them, the man struggling in vain.

"Is it…him?" Bran asked.

"Yes. He is the one who will become the Night King."

"We must stop them!"

"How?" Lord Reed asked. "We cannot interact with them. Can we?"

"I can!" Bran said and he walked towards them, but the green man grabbed his arm and stopped him, and the strength in his grip was so great Bran could not move at all.

"Bran…do you know what you do?" the green man asked.

"Yes. I will tell them not to do it. Then there will be no Long Night, no war, no White Walkers, no…no…"

"Everything," said Howland Reed. "Maybe even you, and me, and all we hold dear."

"I don't understand."

"Change one thing," said the green man. "And all that follows changes. What did you do to the boy of Winterfell?"

"I used him…to help me."

"And what happened to Hodor?" Lord Reed asked.

"He became…Hodor."

"Yes, damaged for life," said the green man. "All because you did something in the past."

Bran sighed. "I understand. If I stop them…I change everything…all of history."

"Yes. We cannot stop them," said the green man.

And so they watched, Bran for the second time, as the Children shoved a shard of dragon glass into the man's chest and turned him into the first White Walker…the Night King.

"If I cannot stop them why did you bring me here?" Bran asked. "Why didn't Lord Reed just tell me all this? He said we could make the war never happen."

"I thought we could do something, but now I know I was wrong," said Howland Reed, the voice now in his head. "Until now I did not know what would happen. In my life I came to the island, I met him, we talked, and I left, to go on with my life. But he told me one day to seek out the son of Eddard Stark, and to send my children to help him when my son asked, to find the Three-Eyed Raven. At that time I had no son, no children at all, and did not know your father. Only now has your time line and mine caught up to each other. I knew it would happen one day, but not when."

Bran had a sudden wild thought. He stared at the green man. "You can see the future?"

"Yes…but I cannot tell what it will truly be. Many things can cause it to change. Our meeting now is one thing that will cause the change. I did it to correct a mistake I made all those years ago."

"I don't understand."

"While the Pact brought peace, it did not last. A thousand years of expansion brought the First Men and Children into conflict again. The Children were fewer, weaker, and had no power to stop them. They asked us to broker a new peace, but the First Men did not listen, thought the Children were done and could finally be defeated, and so the war went on. I failed to convince their leaders to make this peace…and so the Children became desperate. And I failed to stop them from this rash act. No one knew what it would lead to…but of course now we do."

Bran was getting frustrated. "Yes, I see all this. But why did you bring me here?"

"Because it is time to undo my mistakes," said the green man. "One more trip, and then you and Lord Reed must act."

Once more the scene shifted, and now it was a deep winter scene, back at the circle of stones…and someone was here…the Night King…standing in the circle of stones…all alone.

Suddenly he turned and looked right at them…and he seemed to smile. A voice came into Bran's head.

" _Hello, Brandon Stark_."

"Hello."

" _You have come to find me?_ "

"Yes."

" _Good. Tell them I am here…where it all began_. _I will wait for both of them…just me. It must end…if one of them is truly his heir. If not…they will both die._ "

"Then I won't tell them!"

" _Yes, you will, or the war will never end and all you love and care for will die!_ _Now go!_ "

The voice in his head was so loud and shocking Bran fled from its power.

His eyes opened and he was outside. Lord Reed and Meera were standing over his chair and they were by the weirwood.

"Bran!" Meera said. "Thank the gods."

"What…what happened? Why are we here?"

"You have been gone…for days," Lord Reed told him. "We tried to wake you but failed. I thought by the tree I might be able to connect better with you. Then memories started coming to me, of things I never did or knew…and so I knew you had found me."

"I did. We…"

"I know now. I remember it all."

"Good," Bran said. Suddenly he felt as if a deep hole was in his stomach. "I'm hungry."

"I am not surprised. Four days have passed. The battle has been raging but now seems over. Now we must talk."

"Yes…I know everything now."

"So do I," said Lord Reed. "Memories I never had before, now fully formed as if they happened yesterday. We must…"

"Bran?"

It was Jon…with the Queen, and Arya, and Sansa, and many more behind them.

"Hello."

"Bran, we must talk," Jon said. "We must know what to do."

"Yes…it is time."

* * *

 **Winterfell – Daenerys**

The sickness came two days before the battles began. She thought it was bad food at first. But when it happened the next day and the day after as well, she knew what it meant. She called for Maester Wolkan and explained all of what she felt and of her history.

"A witch told you?" he said in surprise when she mentioned how she thought she could never have children again

"A powerful witch."

"Yes…well…it seems she was wrong. I believe you are now with child, Your Grace.'

"Gods."

"Yes…this presents a dilemma because…because…"

"I am unwed. I do understand all the implications."

He looked uncomfortable. "This seems more like a conversation you should be having with Lord Tyrion…and the father."

"Let us not play the fool, maester. You know who the father is I take it."

"Lord Snow."

"Yes. Now that is out of the way, I need some advice on how to proceed. I will not lose this child as well."

"I would say take care and not do anything strenuous or dangerous…but that seems to be counterproductive to our current circumstances."

"Quite so. As for now I will carry on with my duties as necessary. You will not tell anyone. Is that clear?"

"Yes, but surely…"

"I will tell them…in my own time. Do you know what they will say and do if they find out?"

"I can surmise."

"So can I. Lord Tyrion will wring his hands and tell me all the bad things this means for the future of the realm. Jon will try to be the honorable man and insist he tell everyone, that we wed immediately so the child is not a bastard, and that I should be stuffed into the most solid, most well-protected room in all Winterfell. As for the Northern lords, they will think this some ploy of mine to trap their lord into a marriage and force them to bend the knee."

"That seems a bit harsh, Your Grace."

She stared at him. "How long did you serve Ramsey Bolton?"

"But a few months until his death. Before him I served Roose Bolton for almost ten years. But he was not like the other Northern lords, Your Grace. A hard man, devious, willing to betray the Starks to get what he wanted. The rest are not like him or his son."

"Let us hope not. Very well, we will give them the benefit of the doubt. But still this news will remain our secret."

Just then Arya Stark knocked and entered her rooms, all out of breathe as if she had just run to the door. "They are attacking the north gate again Your Grace," she said.

And so for days they fought and then the battles ended. She had still not told Tyrion or Jon she was with child. Now they needed answers from Brandon Stark. He insisted they go inside and only his sisters, Jon, her, and Tyrion hear what he and Lord Reed had to say. Jon in turn insisted Sam should know, and Davos, and Dany wanted Ser Jorah there as well, and so their group grew. They went to Sansa's rooms, which were the largest.

As Bran and Lord Reed talked on all they knew, on what the Night King said to him, Dany sensed that those listening were in disbelief. Tyrion of course was the first to challenge them.

"How can he be on the island?" he asked. "They cannot swim."

"He is there," Lord Reed said. "We both saw him."

"And maybe more of his kind could have gotten there too," Ser Jorah said. "We know not what powers he truly has."

"Was the lake covered in ice?" Jon asked.

"Ah…I don't know," said Bran.

"It could have been, when he took us to the present time," Lord Reed offered. "We did not see the water or lake shore."

"Then it's a trap," Davos suggested.

"Yes," said Arya. "He has thousands of his wights on that island I bet, hiding, waiting for us."

"Us?" Jon said. "No, only the Queen and I will go on the dragons."

"No, Jon," Sansa said. "You cannot go alone."

"We won't be alone," Dany said. "Drogon and Rhaegal will be with us."

"And his ice spears will end one of them, _khalessi_ , or both" Ser Jorah said. Dany felt her heart clutch at that thought, of losing another child, or both, and they all saw the look on her face.

"Sorry, Your Grace," Ser Davos said. "But they are right. It sounds like a trap."

"It's the only way to end this," Jon said in return.

"Then I insist you do not go alone," Tyrion said. "Both dragons can carry extra riders. Take people who can fight if needed. Take…"

"The Hound," Arya said.

"No," Sansa said in a sharp tone. They all looked at her and she seemed to blush. "I mean…what if they come back here, we will need good fighters here as well. Besides, he hates fire and the dragons."

"Aye, he does," said Ser Jorah. "He should stay here. I will go. Tormund as well I think. And two more."

"Me," said Arya.

Now it was Jon's turn to say no. "And what if it is a trap?" he said to his sister. "No, you will stay here. I cannot fight him and worry about you as well."

"I can't stay back," Arya insisted. "I am the Queen's guard."

Dany looked at her. "Yes, you are…but this is not something I want you to go to. Stay here, protect your home."

Arya looked unhappy but finally nodded.

"Who else?" Ser Davos said.

"Bronn," Tyrion suggested. "If anyone can smell a trap he can."

"Good," Jon said.

"I don't trust him," Dany retorted. "He is a sellsword after all."

"That's why you need him, Your Grace," Tyrion said. "He will not betray you. I mean, how could he? The Night King has no sacks of gold or castles to grant."

"Very well," she said though she was not pleased.

"One more," Davos said.

"Theon," Arya said and they all looked at her.

"No," replied Sansa, anger in her tone. "You just want him to go in hopes he gets killed."

"Better he dies in battle," Arya insisted. "Someone here will kill him soon enough."

"What?" Bran said in surprise. "Theon is here?"

"Yes," Sansa told him. "They arrived just today, him and his sister and almost four hundred ironmen."

"I must speak to him," Bran said. "Where is he?"

"Wait, there will be time," Jon said. "Not Theon. Him I still don't trust for certain. Brienne…she has a Valyrian steel sword."

"So do I," Sam said, speaking up for the first time. "I…can't fight. But I can give my father's sword to someone who can." He looked at Ser Jorah. "You should take it."

"Such a sword does not belong to a man who betrayed his lord and family," Ser Jorah said.

Jon now stared at the big man. "Yes, you committed crimes against the North, and choose self-exile. Now you have returned and done good service for the realm. As Warden of the North I pardon you for your crimes."

"I am not worthy of such a pardon."

"You are," said Dany. "I will make it a royal decree if I must."

He hesitated then nodded. "Very well. Then let us prepare."

The six who were going made their plans. Jon would carry Bronn and Tormund with him, while Dany and Drogon would carry Ser Jorah and Brienne. While Brienne and Tormund were eager to go and fight, Bronn seemed reluctant.

"Are you fucking mad?" he said when Dany and Tyrion and Arya came to ask him to go. He was sitting in the great hall, drinking some ale with some wildlings and Northmen. The place was hot and stuffy and seemed to smell of every foul thing in the world. Dany's head reeled and her stomach felt queasy and she ran for the door.

She reached a nearby horse trough and splashed some icy cold water on her face. "Are you okay?" Arya asked from her side.

"Yes," she replied. "Just the heat and smells. Too many people, too long without a bath."

"Aye, all of us smell," Arya said. "Well, maybe not you."

Tyrion appeared with Bronn by his side. "Well?" Dany asked, trying to look as if nothing was amiss.

"Two castles," Bronn said. "And a mountain of gold."

"Done," she replied.

The sellsword gave her a shrewd look. "Come now, no one has a mountain of gold. But I will take a hundred thousand dragons."

"If I can find them they are yours," she told him. "As for the castles, when our enemies are defeated I am sure there will be plenty of castles and lands to give those loyal to me."

"Fair enough. Let's go while there is still day enough to make some distance before dark." He started to go back into the great hall.

"That's the wrong way," Tyrion said. "The godswood is over there."

"Aye, it is. But first I am going to finish my drink. Then I am going to gather what food I can. Going to take a day or more to get there so we will need grub and drink."

"Ah, yes…I will help you," Tyrion said and they entered the great hall.

"Time to see to the dragons," Dany said to Arya as they marched ot the godswood. "Food and water, plenty of both for the long trip."

"I need to see Jon first, Your Grace."

"Very well. Tell him not to tarry long."

An hour later all was ready and the day was growing old. In the godswood they gathered to leave, and many came to say their goodbyes, perhaps forever. Brienne was late arriving and when she came she had red eyes and looked like she had been weeping.

"All right?" Arya asked Brienne from Dany's side.

"Yes…yes, I am ready now."

Jon was late as well and when he entered the godswood he walked straight to Dany's side. "Come, we must talk…alone."

He walked away without her having a chance to answer and soon he stood beneath the weirwood's broad branches and red leaves. And he looked upset, very upset.

"When were you going to tell me?" was what he said in a low voice and she knew he knew.

"Who told you?"

"That is not important," he shot back. "You knew, for days, and said nothing."

"Maester Wolkan…I'll roast him alive."

"No, you won't, Your Grace. Arya said you looked sick, so I asked him if he knew if you were ill. He told me it all, because he is a loyal to the Stark family."

"You are not the head of the Stark family. You are not even a Stark."

That stung him, and she regretted it instantly. "Sorry."

"No…you are right. I am a bastard, Snow by name, or Stone, or Waters, or Flowers, or Hill, or Sand, or whatever…but not a Stark or a Targaryen, never what my mother and father were. But I will not have child of mine grow to be the same."

She knew what he wanted. "There is no time for this."

"There is," he said. "We are standing before the tree."

"Jon…they are waiting."

"Aye, and they can wait. If you love me you can do this. We just need say the words."

"I'm not ready. I'm…I can't."

She fled from him, walked swiftly back to the others and stood near Drogon. Ser Jorah knew something was wrong.

"What did he say?"

"Nothing. Let's go. Brienne, come, it is time."

Jon walked back over to them, stood by Rhaegal, looked at her, and she stared back. He stared, and stared, and then he nodded once.

"Right. Let's go. You all know the plan," Jon said.

"Good luck," Sansa said, trying to fight back her tears.

"Luck won't help them," Arya said. "Fire and steel will. And they have plenty of both."

"We'll be here waiting," Davos said to Jon and Dany. "Kill the monster, then come home."

"Yes," said Tyrion. "And then we kill the other monster, my sister. Hopefully after that we can all rest a little."

Dany climbed on Drogon and Brienne and Ser Jorah climbed on behind her.

"Grasp the spines tightly," Jorah was telling Brienne. "Or you will fall."

"No need to tell me twice," she replied.

On the sides of the dragons were strapped bags of food and drink for they knew not how long it would take. Both had eaten and drunk plenty of water so they were ready.

"Fly," Dany said to her child and soon he was running and then in the sky. She looked back and Rhaegal and Jon were behind her, with Tormund and Bronn sitting behind Jon. Down below all eyes looked up, and none cheered, for they knew they were heading into a danger they may not survive. She turned and flew due south, towards what end she knew not.

* * *

 **Southward – Jon**

He was mad, so mad he wanted to scream. Not a good mood for what was to come, but he could not help it. The cold air of the flight helped to calm him for he would need to be calm for what was to come.

"I think the Queen is sick," Arya had said to him earlier as he was in his room, changing his clothes for something warmer for the long flight.

"What? What happened?" Jon asked.

"She ran from the great hall, looked like she was going to vomit, but she didn't. Looked pale, too. She said it was just the heat and the smells inside. Well, I can understand that. Still…"

"Has she seemed sick to you before this?"

"No…well…just before the battles started I thought I smelled vomit in her room when we met in the morning."

"I will ask Maester Wolkan, he will know if she is sick."

Just then Sam arrived. "I need to speak to Jon…alone."

"I'll see you in the godswood," Arya said and she left them.

"I know what you will say," Jon said as he strapped on Lightbringer. "Please don't."

"I must. You all avoided it like it was greyscale. I will not."

Jon sighed. "Aye. Get on with it then."

"The Night King has twice now mentioned you and the legend. It must be true."

"Or a good story he heard as a…never mind. That can't be possible."

"Yes. So…he knows what or who the prince is, knows it could be you or Daenerys, knows.."

"He never mentioned her by name."

"No, he didn't. Remember what Bran said he said. ' _Tell them I am here…where it all began_. _I will wait for both of them…just me. It must end…if one of them is truly his heir. If not…they will both die._ ' That must mean you and her."

"How can he know there are two of us?"

"I don't know. But maybe Lord Reed and Bran do."

"They would have said something."

"We must ask."

They found Bran in his room, with Meera and Lord Reed…and Theon.

Theon was on his knees, before Bran's chair, and it sounded like he was weeping. As they entered without knocking Theon got up quickly and wiped his eyes.

"What's all this?" Jon asked, worried Theon was up to no good.

"All is well, my lord," Lord Reed said. "Theon has been apologizing for his actions of the past."

"And I have forgiven him," said Bran.

"Not everyone has," Jon said to Theon.

"Aye," he managed to say, the word almost a croak. "Arya hates me."

"And others as well," Jon said. "I cannot vouch for your safety, so you will defend Winterfell from outside the walls. Take your men to the western side of the castle. Make barricades in front of the outer wall and hew more wood from the forest for barricades and torches."

"Aye," he said and then he fled from the room.

"That was painful," said Meera, standing by Bran's chair, almost in a hovering protective mood. She had protected him for so long maybe now it was by instinct.

"Why did you forgive him?" Jon asked Bran. "After all he did…all you saw him do."

"He was not himself when he did those things. He was trying to prove himself to a family who he no longer belonged to. I can see that now. And he saved our sister and is now on our side."

"This may be so but I fear Jon is right, Bran," Lord Reed said. "Your people will never forgive the iron born."

"There is no time for this," Sam said impatiently. "We need to know more about what happened on the Isle of Faces."

"We told you it all," Bran said to them.

"His words," Sam said. "Why did he say 'both of them'? How does he know there are two possible heirs to Azor Ahai?"

"We know not," said Lord Reed. "All we told you is all we saw, what Bran heard, and what my memories now tell me, memories I never had before now."

"It all sounds so fantastic," Jon said. "But it won't help us kill him. Can I kill him?"

They hesitated and looked at each other. Finally Lord Reed spoke. "There is the legend of the sword you carry…but I've been told it seems to have no power other than being a good sharp blade."

"So it seems," Jon replied. "Longclaw could not penetrate his armor. I don't know if this sword can or not."

"Please show me it," Lord Reed asked.

Jon took it out and handed it over. "Light, supple, it seems as if my hand is part of it," Lord Reed said as he took a few swings with the sword.

"Aye, a good blade it is," Jon said. "But is it Lightbringer?"

He handed back the sword. "What does the red woman say?"

"We have not spoken since that first day."

"Then let us see if she knows more."

Sam and Jon and Lord Reed went to her tent. "Sleep," said one of her guards who stood outside, the word sounding strange in his heavy eastern accent.

"Let them in," came her voice from within.

Jon expected the tent to be as he first saw it days ago, but now much had changed. There was no table or chairs, and in the center of the tent was a fire, with the smoke curling up to an opening in the tent's roof. Melisandre was sitting on some carpets on the far side of the fire, and by her sides, standing, were two of her largest men, their tattooed faces seeming animal like in the eerie glow of the fire. Jon could not see her well, but she did look older, as others had said of her in the last few days.

"Lord Snow, Samwell Tarly, and…ah, yes, Lord Howland Reed."

"Did you see him in your flames?" Sam asked.

"No, but I have heard of his coming and his talks with Lord Stark. How fairs your search for the truth, my lord?"

"It has reached its end," Lord Reed told her. "We know where the demon called the Night King is, how he was made, what we must do, but…"

"We don't know how to kill him," Jon said.

"You have the sword," she answered. "Use it."

"I don't know if it will strike him down."

"It is Lightbringer. It was made for this task."

"So you said," Sam said. "But we have no proof of that, only stories and your word this is the true sword."

"Have you used it, Lord Snow? In battle?"

"I have."

"And?"

"It is quite…remarkable."

"Unlike any sword you ever used, I take it."

"Yes. Very."

"But still you do not trust your own eyes, your own feelings? This sword was meant for you."

"Or the Queen," Sam said.

"Possibly," Melisandre agreed. "But that is part of prophecy, the hidden unknown we cannot fathom, through the clouds of time and memory."

"Riddles we do not need," Jon said, his tone sterner than he meant, but he was losing patience and time was short. "We will leave soon to hunt him down, but we waste our time if he cannot die."

"I have no answers for you. I saw you in the flames, many times, outside of a great castle, wielding a flaming sword, striking down foes…possibly him."

Jon was frustrated by her answer he had heard before and knew he was wasting more time. "Let's go."

"Wait," Sam said and Jon knew what he would ask.

"Don't."

But Sam pressed on. "Azor Ahai killed his love to make the sword strong. Must Jon do the same?"

"I know not," she answered. "But if there is one you truly love, then maybe this must be the final step."

Jon dragged Sam outside the tent and Lord Reed followed. "You just want her to die, don't you, Sam?" Jon almost yelled at him. "Why? Because she killed your father and brother?"

"What?" his friend replied in shock. "No…I don't want anyone else to die!"

Jon felt bad for what he had said. "Sorry…just…I can't do that."

"And if you have to?" Lord Reed asked. "Can you do it?"

"No…never," Jon said. "Maybe I should just give her the sword and let her kill me."

Before they could answer him he spied Maester Wolkan walking towards the healing ward. "I'll see you in the godswood."

"Don't be long!" Sam called after him as he ran to intercept Maester Wolkan…and then wished he hadn't.

The news was wondrous and made him angry at the same time. "Please don't tell her I told you," Wolkan pleaded.

"That will be hard to avoid as you are the only one who knows. But fear not, I will not let her do you harm. Thank you, maester, for your honesty."

He knew what he had to do, and do it now, before it was too late, but when he confronted her she had refused…refused him as a husband.

Later, as they flew south he let his blood calm and he knew he was being foolish. Of course she said no, you dolt. He surprised her, he demanded they do it the old way before a tree, many people were nearby, and she and he were hardly dressed for the part. She was a woman, and she would want a big wedding, with all the right things. But he feared what would happen to his son or daughter if he died in the coming battle, born with the taint that had stained him for so long.

South they flew, past Castle Cerwyn, along the Kingsroad to the Neck and then the Twins. As they flew they looked for signs of the enemy army marching south as well but saw nothing. Jon began to worry they were hiding in the forests down below and would strike Winterfell again soon enough. But they had a plan and had to stick to it.

Behind him Bronn and Tormund kept up a running commentary on the women they had slept with and the men they had killed. It made Jon's head hurt just listening to them.

"If you two don't shut up I will make Rhaegal do a roll and see how well you can hang on."

"You do that and I will grab onto you," Tormund threatened. "Not to worry as it now seems we are fresh out of tales. Your turn. Tell us about the first woman you ever fucked."

"You know her…knew her."

"What? Oh, gods, Ygritte?"

"Aye."

"Who's Ygritte?" Bronn asked.

"One of my people," Tormund told him. "Lord Snow fell in love with her when he captured her…or she captured him. Which was it?"

"Both," Jon replied. "I really don't want to talk about her."

"What happened to her?" Bronn asked.

"She died at the battle at Castle Black," Tormund told him.

"You kill the fucker who killed her, Snow?" Bronn asked next.

"Aye," Jon said. But only after he killed me too, though he didn't say that.

"I heard you're sweet on the Queen now," Bronn said.

"Who told you that?"

"Everyone knows," Tormund said. "No secrets there, my friend. Is it true?"

"So I am. What about you two? Any women in your life?"

Bronn chuckled. "All women, anytime, anywhere. I did have a wife lined up down south, but the fucking Lannister boys interfered with those plans. Story for another day. Now, our wild friend here has eyes only for big Brienne."

"I heard," Jon said.

"We will have the biggest babies in the world," Tormund said with a laugh.

"Sorry mate," Bronn said. "But she only got eyes for Ser Jaime."

"So? He will soon be dead or freezing his balls off at the Wall," Tormund answered. "Then I make my move."

As they argued over this Jon concentrated on flying, keeping behind the Queen, Brienne, and Ser Jorah on Drogon.

South of the Twins they followed the Green Fork and then it began to get dark, so they stopped in an open field north of the Trident River and ate some food and drank some ale and let the dragons rest for a bit.

Dany walked over to him and they stepped away from the rest. "Sorry," she said. "You surprised me."

"As did you. How long have you known?"

"A few days."

"Were you ever going to tell me?"

"Yes…when, I know not. When all this was over I suppose."

"You should not be here, not in your…your…"

"Condition?" she snapped at him, and a blazing anger arose in her eyes. "As I expected. You would want to marry me and shove me into a strong room, safe and secure. Know this now. I am not the woman for that, now, or ever."

"Aye, Your Grace," he said. "I would not have it either. But you lost a child before. We must be cautious."

"There is no time for that! You need me and Drogon here now."

He sighed. "That we do."

Ser Jorah walked towards them. "We should not stay out here in the open, Your Grace. Night is coming and it will be cold."

"What about Harrenhal?" She asked. "We could be there soon enough."

"We don't know who controls it now," Jon said. "It was the Lannisters once, and maybe they still hold it."

"Or someone worse," said Ser Jorah. "Riverrun is still held by the Freys, what's left of them anyway."

"We best find a village," she replied.

"Brienne spotted one from the air just over that hill," Jorah said in return as he pointed to the west.

They found the village easy enough, nestled close to the Trident, whose waters flowed free despite the cold. But the village was empty, and over half its small houses burnt down. Jon was sure in the spring the dead would emerge from under the snow…unless they were already in his army.

One house was large enough for them all, and soon Tormund had a fire going in its hearth and Bronn and Brienne collected more wood from the other houses. While Dany led the dragons to the river to drink water, Jon and Ser Jorah stood nearby, looking south. The river banks were ice covered but the water still flowed in the center.

"Soon it will be frozen solid," Jorah said.

"Maybe so."

"What will we do when we find him?" Jorah asked next.

"Kill him, if we can."

"He won't be alone."

"No," Jon said. "It will be a trap. The dragons can kill those with him. I just need to get close enough to strike him."

"Once you already tried that and almost died."

"There is no other way. Dragon fire won't hurt him."

"Or you it seems."

"Or her."

"Aye, that I saw myself, twice, in the east. The first time I thought she would die. When she emerged from the ashes of Khal Drogo's funeral pyre with three dragons on her I knew she was the one to rule."

"So she will."

"You love her, I know."

Jon looked at him. "So do you I heard."

"We all love her in our own way. And she returns our love in her way. But you, Jon Snow, you are special…even I can see that. So I will not stand in your way. If she is to be happy, I will step aside."

"Thank you."

"Considered it a favor returned. My people were reluctant to accept me back into the fold. Lady Lyanna was welcoming, but she will need to convince all the heads of the houses when we return to Bear Island. Your pardon will go a long way towards restoring my honor."

"You earned it. I am sure my father would say the same if he were here."

"Maybe so. Or maybe not. A stubborn man he was, not one to let what I did go by so easily. And so I fled to the east."

"And so here we are."

They found beds and blankets in some houses and began to set up a camp in the large house for the night. It was warm inside and all were tired. Jon said he would take the first watch and no one offered to take it instead. As he left the house he heard Brienne snap at Tormund. "Mine where you keep your hands or you will lose them!" The big wildling laughed and said she would love where he put his hands soon enough

Bronn was outside having a piss and just finished when Jon arrived. "I'll take first watch."

"Suit yourself," Bronn replied. "Wake me in two hours."

"Aye."

"Snow…you stand many watches on the Wall?"

"Many. I know what to do."

"Just remember you are not seven hundred feet in the air. A wight can be on you in mere moments. And metal freezes up in the cold. Sword gets stuck in the scabbard. Have your sword in hand."

Jon knew all this but nodded as if he was just learning. "Aye. Good advice."

As Bronn left him he took out Lightbringer and held it by his side. Nearby the dragons were nestled on the ground and after a short while Jon felt the cold and so went and stood by them where it was warmer. "No wights will sneak up on you two," he said aloud.

And then came the thought, and it grew, and the more it grew, he knew what he had to do. He knew if they all went to the Isle of Faces they would surely lose someone or all if he could not kill the Night King. And if that happened, if they were surrounded and the sword was not helping, he knew what he would do, and he could not do that, to the woman he loved and the child she carried…his child.

So he would go alone.

He waited an hour, letting Rhaegal rest, and then he acted. All the while he thought on the implications of what he planned, and tried to talk himself out of it, but knew it was what he had to do. It took some coaxing but he finally got Rhaegal up. Drogon slumbered on, unaware they were moving back through the village to the open field beyond. And then they were airborne.

Night flying was something he was not used to but the clouds were few, the moon was half full and some stars were visible as well. They crossed the Trident and rose high and before long he could see the simmering of a sheet of whiteness in the far distance and knew it had to be God's Eye…frozen solid. Soon he saw something massive outlined in the lake's icy whiteness behind it and knew it must be the bulk of Harrenhal. He had never seen the great castle and now there it stood, spires sticking up high in the air. Jon looked to see if there was any sign of life and saw none, no fires, no people, and no smoke in the air. It was dead…and most likely the dead occupied it now.

Ahead he saw the lake and down below it looked frozen, all of it, one massive sheet of ice. The Trident had flowed free but it was a river, and still waters always froze faster than flowing ones. Ice would let them cross and be on the island, as many as he wanted.

There it was, a dark blob in the midst of all that whiteness, due south of the great castle. Jon brought Rhaegal into a low circle over the island and could see nothing, no fires, no lights, no landmarks, total darkness…wait…there, an open space…and something…a circle of stones.

Rhaegal landed and Jon looked around and could see nothing. He need light and knew one way to get it.

" _Dracarys!_ " he hissed and the warmth beneath him built and then the great gout of flame reached out…and engulfed a hundred wights nearby, sneaking up on him and his beast.

Their screeches were hideous as they burned to death. Jon wasted no time and screamed again.

" _DRACARYS!_ " and more flame shot out, in a great circle now as Rhaegal turned his head, and all around them wights and trees burst into flames. Soon it was if it was day on the island, and there among the circle of stones stood the Night King.

" _Welcome_ ," said the voice in his head. Jon stepped down from Rhaegal…and then noticed the Night King had an ice spear in his hands.

Jon turned and screamed. "FLY!" and Rhaegal ran and lifted off just as the Night King readied his spear. Jon ran and swung Lightbringer at him and the Night King had to block his blow with the long spear. Rhaegal climbed into the air, safe for now…but Jon was now all alone.

" _Where is the other?"_ the Night King asked as they circled each other, behind them the forest on fire, lighting the scene in a brilliant oranges and reds.

"I don't need any help to defeat you. I have the sword!"

All he got in return was laughter. " _No sword can defeat me! I have lived for over eight thousand years!_ "

"I know who made you, I know what Bran saw."

" _Yes, they made me. I was once a man like you. I felt the warmth of a woman's touch, drank cool ale, had fine meats. Not anymore. They took all that away from me!_ "

"Then why kill us? We did not do you any harm."

" _We conquer because we can. You are weak, you do not deserve what was taken from me. Always warring with each other, killing for the stupidest of reasons. One insult leads to thousands of years of feuds. Oh, I know your kind. Remember I was once one of you. Men. Small, meaningless subjects. Praying to your gods. There is only one god, and he is Death!_ "

He swung out at Jon at that moment, and Lightbringer came up and blocked the blow, making a ringing sound as the two blades, ice and steel, met and rebounded from each other. Jon gave the counter swing and he in turn blocked Jon. Now they stepped back, circled each other warily.

" _See,_ " the Night King said. " _Your sword is useless. He had a sword too, and it did him no good._ "

"Then how did he kill you?"

" _Kill me? Am I gone? Am I dead?_ "

"Some say you were killed eight thousand years ago."

" _Never._ "

"Then you were hiding for eight thousand years."

" _Not hiding…resting._ "

"From what? Your kind never tires, never sleeps. Why were you resting? Did he hurt you?"

" _Enough talk. Time for you to die._ "

The blows came at him in a furious sequence, the Night King the master of his weapon, and Jon blocked each in turn, but he was tiring, and the enemy was not…and then an opening, his reach too far, and Jon ducked under it and stabbed up, into his chest, and struck his armor…and the sword did not penetrate it.

A blow to the head stunned him and he fell to the ground, now melted mush and cold water, the snows melting from all the nearby fires. He tasted blood in his mouth and smelled ash and smoke.

" _Time to die,"_ said the voice in his head…

…and then came the furious beating of wings and a voice screamed. "JON!"

Drogon came down and with his claws he snatched the Night King from above Jon, picking him up in the air, his spear dropping to the ground, and soon they were gone.

Seconds later Rhaegal landed beside him and Jon leaped to his back and was off, chasing after Drogon.

Far ahead they were, heading north over the lake toward Harrenhal. On Drogon's back he could see them all, five people, and down below in his claws was the Night King, arms and legs flailing as if he struggled to free himself. Dany was taking Drogon higher and higher and then Jon knew what she would do.

"Wait!" he wanted to shout but it was too late. The claw opened, the Night King fell, and fell and fell, and Jon saw him hit the ice and go through it, sinking into the waters of the lake.

On the back Jon saw Tormund looking at him and waving his arm, indicating to follow them.

Down they went to the shores by the lake between Harrenhal and the ice covered waters. When Jon landed they were waiting for him and she was furious.

"You stupid bloody man!" she yelled at him and then she ran and leaped into his arms. She felt warm and lovely but there was no time for this.

He pulled back. "He's not dead."

"He must be," Jorah said. "No man could survive that fall."

"He's not a man," Brienne reminded them.

"We must go," Jon said. "It is not safe here."

"What happened on the island?" Bronn asked. "Looked like he was about to win."

"Aye, he was. I stabbed him and still could not penetrate the armor."

"The head maybe," Jorah said.

"Aye," said Tormund. "One…oh…gods…oh."

They all saw it, a spear in his back, and suddenly as Tormund fell on his face wights came out of the darkness and attacked.

They fought well, killed dozens, but were soon hemmed in, fighting back towards the walls of the great castle. The dragons were killing hundreds of them as well, but there were tens of thousands it seemed and the great beasts were surrounded as well, and they screamed as axes and spears and swords dug into their flesh. Jon did not understand how so many could have gotten south so quickly but maybe they had always been marching south, not all attacking Winterfell.

Rhaegal soon had enough of the torment and ran and flew into the sky. Drogon stood his ground longer, and soon looked like a thistle bush, covered in spiny thorns, each thorn a spear or arrow in his hide. He tried to fight his way to them but then Dany and Jon both saw a White Walker with an ice spear in hand. "FLY!" she shouted to her child. "FLY AWAY!"

He hesitated and then did as he was commanded, and the ice spear flew, struck his tail, nicked it, but did not do much harm.

Meanwhile they were dying.

Tormund was first, and Jon's heart broke when he saw his friend of so many battles standing with blue eyes in their ranks. Tormund charged him directly and it was Brienne who stepped forward and stabbed him, her Valyrian steel sword slicing his arm off and then his head.

Soon they had four of them facing out, the Queen behind them all, her back to the stone wall. Above them Drogon and Rhaegal did not leave, but circled and shot down fire once in a while, lighting up the scene and killing many…but they were surrounded and would soon die.

"Kill her!" Bronn shouted at Jon. "Kill her or we'll all die!"

"What?"

"Sam the Slayer said you had to kill her. Do it!"

"Never!" Brienne shouted as she killed another wight, this one a man who had the Twins sigil on his surcoat.

And then she was dead as well. A dozen wights charged forward and she screamed a battle cry and ran out to meet them, slice and hacking, and killed most, but not all. A large wight with a massive war hammer side stepped her sword stroke and smashed the hammer into her head. Half her head with its blond hair came away and flew back and fell at Jon's feet and she crumpled to the ground, dead. Bronn quickly stooped, picked up her sword, and killed the wight that had killed her, and then backed up to help Jon and Ser Jorah defend the Queen.

"Jon…you must do it," Dany said from behind him, her voice almost a whimper.

"No…please…I can't."

"Then kill him!" Jorah shouted as two more wights died at his feet.

"Yes," Jon said to her. "Do it!" He turned and handed her the sword and she hesitated, then took the hilt. He took the blade tip and put it on his chest.

"Do it."

For a moment he thought she would…but she lowered the blade.

"We die as one, my love!" she cried. "I cannot do it either."

"Fuck," Bronn shouted, almost as if in resignation. "Well, I guess this is it."

But suddenly the attacks stopped. Silence, except for the roaring of the dragons above, and the screeches of burning wights out there. The wights' ranks parted…and he was there, walking towards them, ice covering his body, water frozen from the frigid air after his climb out of the watery grave she had intended for him.

" _You cannot kill me, Daenerys Targaryen. Nor you Jon Snow."_

"Bloody hell, is he talking?" Bronn said.

"Only in our heads," Ser Jorah told him.

" _I cannot die…ever,_ " the Night King said.

"Yes, you can," Jon said and spun around, grabbed the blade tip again, put it to his chest, grabbed her hand, just able to reach it, and thrust the sword forward.

"JON! NO!" she cried out, but it was too late. The blade that could slice through chairs now easily went through his furs and leathers, the tip penetrating just enough to hit his heart. He knew what that felt like, and now he felt that same feeling, the piercing shock, the flutter in his chest, his heart beating wildly, then slowing as the life oozed out of him. He sank to the ground and the last thing he saw was Dany above him, crying out in anguish.

"Take the sword," he whispered to her. "Destroy him."

"She cannot," said a voice. "She is not the one who can do it."

Jon stood, felt life in his body, spun around…he was all alone, in the godswood back home…and then there was his father, Eddard Stark, walking towards him.

"Father?"

Ned Stark's face looked trouble. "So I allowed you to believe. But we both now know it is not so. I am sorry for hiding the truth for so long."

"I understand why."

"Aye. Now we have much to discuss."

"Where am I? Is this heaven?"

"No, you are not dead...yet. Daenerys is not the one who must defeat him…it is you."

"How do you know?"

"Because I told him," said a new voice and a man stepped from behind the weirwood, a tall man, clean shaven, dark of skin and hair like many from the east, but wearing furs and leathers like a Northerner. "Hello, Jon. I am Azor Ahai."

"Gods."

"Yes, they are here as well," Azor Ahai told him. "Though they will not show their mortal form. Once they helped me, ages ago, as now I will help you."

"I don't understand."

"Listen to him, Jon," his father said.

"First understand…you cannot kill him."

"Then we are doomed," Jon said in resignation.

"No…you will defeat him. One blow from the sword is all it will take."

"I tried. I failed."

"Because you were not ready. You made a sacrifice, as I did so long ago. You were willing to die to save the one you love, to save the realm, and it is enough. The sword will now defeat him. When he dies in the form he is in, his soul will not be destroyed. He too has powerful friends, on his side, gods of evil and horror, who will keep him alive, as they did so long ago. He prays to a harsher god, of Death, and he is the harshest of them all. Called the Stranger in your lands, and many names in others. He demands service from all men and women and children eventually. All men must die. Do you know this saying?"

"Yes. _Valar morghulis_."

"Yes. All mortals must die, and so it goes, on and on, as long as there are people. And this god knows if we let his servant win, totally win, there will be no more deaths, no more to satisfy him, and that he cannot allow."

"You mean Death wants us to defeat the Night King?"

"Yes," his father said. "But he will come back some day…and it will go on. As it is now."

"Why has no one told me this before?"

"Because they forgot," Azor Ahai said. "Truth became stories, stories became legends, legends became myths, tales told by old women to children to make them eat their porridge and go to bed."

"I think I understand. Does he know?" Jon asked.

"The Night King? No. He thinks he will win…and next time he will think so again. But as long as men stay vigilant, he will never win."

"Now what do I do?"

"You go back," his father said. "Take the sword, and kill him…his form at least."

"When you do so, all his wights will die," Azor Ahai said. "That is how Brandon and I defeated him last time."

"Is this all a dream?"

"No," Ned Stark told him. "I am here because the gods asked me to come, to make sure you would believe."

"Then you are truly dead."

"Aye. Do not weep for me. I am not alone. The rest are here with me. Cat, Robb, and Rickon. Others, friends and family. Someday, you as well, and your sisters and Bran. But not today. Go, defeat him, and then enjoy what life the gods have given you…twice now it seems."

"I love you."

"Aye, as I love you, and always have…my son. Now go!"

His eyes opened and Dany was bending over him crying. "I am not dead," he whispered.

She gasped. "Shhh. The sword…put it in my hand."

She did so, her eyes wide as she looked at him.

"So," Bronn was saying. "How would you like a nice…live…sellsword in your ranks? Could show you around, the best places to attack, who rules where, all that."

" _I have no time for your babbling, sellsword,"_ said the Night King. " _Kill them all!"_

"No," said Jon as he stood. "The only one who will die is you."

"Gods," said Ser Jorah as he gaped at him.

"Fuck me," said Bronn as they stepped back. Jon walked between them towards the Night King.

" _You cannot kill me, Snow. When will you learn_?"

"I know I cannot kill you. But I can send you back to the hell where you came from."

With that he leaped forward, raised the sword, and in an instant it turned into flame, so bright it hurt the eyes, but not Jon's, he could see clearly. All the wights cowered in fear and the Night King was so shocked and surprised he did not move, did not shout out to his minions, did nothing. " _NO!_ " he screamed as Lightbringer struck true, hitting his chest, going through him, and then he shattered into a million pieces of ice and snow, and Jon and the others swore later they had heard a sigh of what seemed like contentment, or maybe it was just the wind.

As promised the ranks of the enemy fell in their thousands, collapsing into heaps of bone and clothing, weapons clattering to the ground, armor and shields in great heaps. In years to come, smiths and armorers of Harrenhal would refurbish it all or melt it down to make new ones. Bone collectors would make trophies of the remains, and use the teeth to make false ones.

But for now the war was over.

Jon explained it all and they did not believe, but they had to as there was no other explanation. The hole in his chest disappeared and he would have no new scars.

They took Tormund and Brienne's bodies and burned them on a wooden bier, said their prayers, said their goodbyes. Drogon and Rhaegal they tended to, and for days Drogon seemed like he would die from blood loss, but he pulled through.

They were almost out of food and so entered Harrenhal, found it empty of all living things except for a few chickens and one pig and some ravens in the rookery. They found plenty of supplies in storage rooms, enough for an army, and had a small feast to celebrate, drank too much, and wept for those they had lost.

Jon awoke in her arms in a big bed where he was sure a lord once slept. Long they had talked on what had happened and what it meant, and both confirmed their love for each other, after she scolded him enough for sneaking off and trying to do it all on his own. They had soon learned he had gone, when Drogon awoke and roared when he missed his brother. She knew where he was going and why and so they followed.

"I will marry you," she said after they made love the night before. "When the war is done." And so for one of the few times in his short life Jon Snow slept soundly and happily.

"It is time to make plans," he said in the morning as she snuggled close to him after they had made love once more. "We must send word to Winterfell."

"Yes," she said. "Let us check the rookery."

One bird they found for Winterfell, half starved, as were the rest, and so they fed it for a day before sending it off. Jon wrote what had been done, though not all the unbelievable details, told them who had died, and commanded them to bring what fighting forces they could and what supplies they could spare to Harrenhal.

"Now what?" asked Bronn when the bird flew off. "More war?"

"Yes. We defeat the next monster," Dany said.

"The mortal one," Ser Jorah added. "Who will never come back."

Jon nodded. "Aye. Cersei Lannister must die. It is time."


	12. Chapter 12

**Game of Thrones Season 8 Chapter 12**

 **King's Landing – Cersei**

"Not a word, Your Grace," Qyburn told her. "Both the Twins and Harrenhal have gone silent."

"And your little birds?" Cersei asked. They were in her rooms in the Tower of the Hand. All was prepared for their leaving, they just had to wait for nightfall, which would be shortly. But she had been uneasy over this lack of an answer from those who sided with her who were north of the capital. Qyburn had written to the Twins and Riverrun and Harrenhal, telling their allies and garrisons to take what stores they could and retreat south to Storm's End, burning all they could not carry. But there had been no replies. She could understand the slowness of a reply from the Twins, as they had been devastated by an assassin, but at the others there had been no troubles…yet.

"All those have gone silent as well," Qyburn told her. "It has been well over a week since I have had any news north of here."

"What does it mean?"

"Several things are possible, Your Grace. My contacts may be unable to send messages. The ravens we sent or they sent may have gone astray or been killed. It is winter after all."

"Yes, of course. Or?"

"Our enemies in the north may have attacked our allies. Unlikely, but not impossible."

"I'd say very unlikely. If they had been attacked they surely would have be able to send word."

"Yes. So, that leaves the third possibility. The undead have marched south and are now destroying our castles and allies one by one."

"Gods." She felt a shiver go up her back, remembering the foul creature that had tried to kill her in the dragonpit.

"Quite so. I fear this may be the true answer. As ravens only fly in the daytime, they could have attacked at night, swiftly, leaving no time to launch birds with this news."

"If they have taken Harrenhal, then…" She could not say what it meant but he knew.

"Yes…we may be next."

"We leave as soon as it is dark."

"Of course, Your Grace."

"And the wildfire?"

"All is prepared as you commanded."

"Good."

They left by the King's Gate, the gate closest to the road that led over the hills to the bridges over the Blackwater that were further upstream. The Blackwater Rush was full of ice but it was not frozen solid. It was not safe enough to cross over on the ice and the floating mass was too dangerous for light ships. Therefore they could not use the ferries to cross the broad river. The Golden Company had sailed the day before, the heavy ships pushed out of the docks and then carried through the floating ice by the river's strong current until they reached more open waters. Their commander Harry Strickland complained about this journey being too dangerous, but in the end his men and supplies and elephants had all boarded ship once more, and he said he hoped this was the last time. Cersei was tempted to tell Ser Gregor to cut his head off, but they were her only allies now, such as they were, being mercenaries. They were well paid, and had their orders, but would they follow them was the question. If not, she had no real way to force them to do as she said.

After darkness came a long column of wagons and horses left the Tower of the Hand courtyard and proceeded through the mostly empty streets. Cersei rode in a plain covered carriage with Ser Gregor at her side and her Queensguards all around her on horseback. Qyburn was in a wagon close behind, and in the wagon was all his mysterious apparatus for the work he was doing. Included in the wagon were the remains of the wight that Jon Snow had brought them. Qyburn said her guards should not be so close to her or in their distinctive black and silver armor as it would attract attention, but she would not bend on this point. If the citizenry rose up, like they had done that terrible day when she had last seen her daughter alive and well, she wanted the best men at her side.

But there was little fear of such an attack. After all, over half the population had either died or fled during and following the ice dragon's attack. The men in command of her group feared a new attack from this terrible beast, but there was nothing they could do about it if it happened. A nervous tension was in the air and more than a few men and horses seemed skittish.

Despite their fears, no attacks came, and their exodus went off with little trouble. By the time they reached the hills outside the city they were far enough away to take a brief rest. Cersei stood by Qyburn's side, looking back towards the capital. "When will it happen?"

"Soon, Your Grace."

They waited...and then it happened. First was a flash, green fire, climbing high, and then came the noise, like a stone throw in a pond, making waves that seemed to ripple out towards them. They also heard many screams, and then the whole of the Red Keep began to collapse in on itself, and the greenish flames and dust rose higher in the air.

"Was it empty?" she asked him.

"Uncertain. Since we abandoned it I know some smallfolk began to live in its ruins. They were warned to leave many times. Perhaps they did."

If not they were now dead. She stared for a long time, looking at the place where all her dreams came to ruin, and then turned her back on it, shutting off that part of her life forever. "Let us ride," she commanded and they all mounted and headed for the bridges.

After crossing the bridges they doubled back alongside the Blackwater and came up on the Kingsroad where it entered the Kingswood, the dark forest which stretched between King's Landing and Storm's End. It was Robert's favorite hunting grounds, and Cersei's as well, for this was where the boar had gored him to death.

It took five days to traverse the Kingswood, slower than she would have liked, but snowfalls and the shortening daylight hours meant less time was spent each day traveling on the road. They found shelter in roadside inns and small villages each night. Finally, they reached the larger outlying villages and towns as they approached Storm's End. This was all Baratheon territory, the people loyal to Robert's family for centuries, but now there were no more of his family's line except a handful of bastards. Once when she and Robert had come here soon after their marriage the people had cheered and cried and threw flowers at their feet. Not anymore. While the people in the villages and towns were not hostile, they we not overly friendly either. They treated her and her people with all necessary respect, but their faces and eyes were cold and unwelcoming. She would bend these people to her will and they would join her or some heads would have to roll.

Cersei also noticed there were very few men about, only greybeards and boys. "Where are all the men?" she asked Qyburn.

"Most likely they were in the armies of either Stannis or Renly Baratheon, Your Grace."

"So…all dead now, I suppose."

"Not all. There is still the garrison of the castle."

Finally, they came within sight of the great castle, its distinctive rounded walls that seemed made of one solid piece of rock standing tall and monolithic in the early morning winter sun. To their surprise the Golden Company was camped outside its walls…and it looked like they were preparing for a siege. The sea nearby was empty of the ships she had expected to see.

A short time later they stood within Strickland's pavilion, where Strickland and his subordinate commander Tristan Rivers awaited her.

"We just got here yesterday, Your Grace," Strickland began his report. "We landed as soon as we found a suitable place."

"Where are your ships?" she asked.

"The captains refused to stay, Your Grace," Rivers told her. "The bay has little shelter, and is well-known for its storms, so they sailed south to a more suitable harbor."

"Very well. Have you had contact with the garrison commander, Ser Cortnay Penrose?"

Strickland answered and his face seemed troubled. "We went up to the gates this morning and Ser Cortnay greeted us…with this. He said to give it to you."

It was a raven scroll in his hand, already opened. Cersei looked to Qyburn and he took it, unfurled it and read aloud.

" _To the garrison commander of Storm's End. I, Queen Daenerys Targaryen, order you to deny entry of your castle to Cersei Lannister and her army when they arrive at your gates. The war in the North is over, the great enemy and his undead armies are defeated. Now my army and my dragons will come south and deal with the last true enemy of the people of Westeros. All those who wish to join my side and be loyal to me will resist the usurper and her followers_."

As Cersei listened she felt her rage building but controlled her emotions. "This came from Winterfell?" she asked Strickland after Qyburn handed the scroll to her.

"No, Your Grace. He said it came from Harrenhal."

"As I thought," said Qyburn. After her puzzled look he explained. "We sent word to the Harrenhal garrison to come south to here. That is why they know where we are, Your Grace. They must have attacked the garrison and found the message after they defeated them."

"Lies she writes," Cersei said, crumpling up the scroll in her hand. "All lies to bring allies to her side and discomfort to us."

"If so, it seems to have worked," said Strickland. "Penrose refuses to open his gates or even discuss terms."

"Then he will die when we breach his gates," she replied. Then she turned to Qyburn. "Is it possible?" she asked, the question barely a whisper. "Could they have defeated the undead?"

"Hard to say, Your Grace. If she has taken Harrenhal, then their troubles in the North seem over. How they did it, I cannot say with certainty."

Then she remembered. "Jaime is there."

"Yes."

She was silent as she thought about him and what she had written and wondered if he still lived. Qyburn interrupted her thoughts. "Your Grace…what shall we do?"

"Fight," she said, coming out of her funk, the word sounding loud in the silent pavilion. She turned back and looked at Strickland and Rivers. "Continue your siege preparations. Send scouts to the south, looking for the Dornish army. And to the north for our enemies."

Strickland nodded. "As you command, Your Grace."

"It won't work," said Tristan Rivers.

"Shut up," Strickland said in anger. "Don't listen to him, Your Grace."

"No, say what you will," she said to Rivers.

"A siege is a waste of time, Your Grace. We will never break those walls in a hundred years."

"So Robert always said."

"He was not wrong. But there is another way. Under the castle is an old cave, smugglers once used. The Onion Knight Ser Davos Seaworth got in that way during the last siege, bringing food to Stannis' garrison."

"I have heard of this tale," Qyburn answered. "Do you know where the cave is?"

"Not yet."

"Search for it," Cersei commanded. "At night only. Have a picked group of men ready to attack when you find it."

"It will be done," Rivers said and then left after giving Strickland a dirty look.

"Another waste of time, Your Grace," Strickland said. "Even if he finds it, Ser Cortnay is no fool. He knows about it for sure, will have men guarding it."

"We must try," she replied. "And your siege preparations will continue."

He nodded. "Your Grace," and then he left.

"He is a coward," Qyburn said. "A siege is what he wants, even if it lasts a hundred years. Sieges are dull affairs, with little blood spilled until the end. He and most of his men will be safe, while being well-fed and well-paid."

"So it is seems," Cersei replied. "Bloody mercenaries." She sat in a camp chair by an old wooden table. "Food and wine," she commanded and Qyburn shouted for servants to bring both. While her own camp was prepared she took her meal in Strickland's pavilion with Qyburn at her side and her guards around her.

As she sipped her wine she thought on it all and knew she now had a slim hope of surviving. Qyburn must have been reading her mind.

"We could go across the sea, Your Grace."

"No," she replied in a stern tone. "We fight here and win or die here. I will run no more." She would not be reduced to being a beggar in the Free Cities, always looking over her shoulder for assassins.

"Then we must have the Dornish on our side."

"We will." She looked at the massive hulk of Ser Gregor standing by the flap of the pavilion. "Even if I have to give them everything they ask for," she said in a low voice.

"That will be difficult," he replied in an equally low voice.

"Nothing is impossible. That whore seems to have proven that, if she has really defeated the undead. The question is where is she now? And when will she get here?"

"We must assume she is at Harrenhal, gathering her army for the march south."

"Then we must gather as many men and supplies as we can."

"She still has her dragons it seems."

"Even dragon fire will not break those walls. Once inside nothing will ever get us out again."

Nothing but a lack of food, she knew, and so did he, but they did not speak on that. Again her mind drifted to Jaime and she wondered again what he was doing, if he still lived…and if he would forgive her if they ever met again.

* * *

 **Winterfell – Jaime**

The shouting awoke him from his slumber. Life was so very boring for Ser Jaime Lannister now that the enemy was gone. He had done his share of the fighting, little enough as that was with only one good hand. But he had killed his share of wights and even Snow once said he had done well. To go from the finest sword in the land to doing just 'well' was a steep drop and his pride was stung. Yet he was still alive and that was more than could be said for most.

The attacks had ended several days ago and so he was kept in his prison. With nothing to do he slept often in his tiny room on top of the tower, even in the daytime. Now he heard many shouts from outside his tiny barred window. He stood and opened the shutters awkwardly with his one good hand. Down below he saw many people, smallfolk and fighting men of all the various allied armies, all hugging and shouting, and some were even crying, and one old woman was down on her knees in the mud and slush, her hands clasped in a prayer.

He went to his door and pounded on it. The guards opened it, both with hands on their sword hilts. "What is all the commotion?" he asked.

"Don't know," one said, just as Tyrion came up the stairs behind them…and in his hands was a raven scroll.

"I need have words with my brother," Tyrion said.

"What's happening, my lord?" one guard asked.

"The war is over," Tyrion told them.

"Always with the jokes, this one is," said the other guard in a disdainful tone. "I'll find out. Keep them locked inside."

Tyrion and Jaime went into the room and the door was locked behind them. Jaime sat on his bed. "Is it true or just a joke?"

"It's true," Tyrion told him. "We have received a raven from Harrenhal. The Night King is dead." Tyrion had told him a few days ago what the Queen and Jon Snow were up to and now it seems their efforts had born fruit.

"Well, good news for once," Jaime replied, feeling less enthusiastic than perhaps he should. "That was decent of him letting them know where he was and all."

"Quite. We still haven't understood why he did that yet. The feeling was it was a trap so he could kill them. Anyway, the details are uncertain…except a few. Jaime…there is more news. I…I'm sorry."

And he just handed him the scroll, and Jaime knew from the look on his face what it was. Brienne had gone south with them…and she would not be coming back. Jaime didn't want to read it but he had to. So he read and felt his stomach clench and his heart pound faster. A well of sadness and anger built up in him. He threw the scroll on the floor, stood and went to the open window, fighting back his tears, gulping in the cold winter air.

"I'm sorry," his brother said again, after he picked up the message.

"There they all are," Jaime said, fighting to not choke on his words, as he gazed on those celebrating. "Shouting and crying for joy, praying to their gods…while she is dead."

"So are many others. Tormund fell, too."

"I did not know him, did not…care for him. Or the thousand more who fell here."

"More than that. More than four thousands it seems. We lost count. And more in the healing wards will die yet. How many are dead down south we don't know yet. The entire garrison of Harrenhal was likely among his army…all of them our men from the Westerlands."

"Her men, you mean. And I still don't care."

"You should. We could have used them for the next step."

Jaime spun around. "You mean to attack and kill our sister?"

"Yes…it seems likely. Daenerys cannot leave her alive. As we have discussed in the past."

Yes, they would have to. Now he only wanted one thing. "I want to go with the army," he said. "I want to go south…I have to see her one more time."

"I will try."

A short time later his lunch arrived but he was not hungry at all. Then the sister came to get him.

"Sansa wants to talk to you," Arya Stark told him. As they walked down the stairs his curiosity got the better of him.

"So how did your brother kill the Night King?"

"Don't know if it was him. He didn't say who killed him or how. You read the letter, Tyrion said."

"Yes, or course, but how do you think they did it?"

"It doesn't matter. They did it, it's done, and now we can move on."

"To kill my sister?"

She stopped on the bottom step and turned to look at him. "She wants to kill all of us, including you according to what Bronn said. I don't see why we shouldn't do her in first."

Jaime had no answer to that. The Hound was waiting for them outside the tower. For once in his life the Hound was not crude or rude in actions or manners. "Sorry," he said. "I liked her too, even though she tried to kill me."

"I heard it was an epic battle."

"Aye, it was. Come on. Lady Sansa wants to have words with you. And mind what you say. She is upset as well."

They found Sansa and Tyrion in Sansa's solar. The Hound stood by the door while Arya took a corner seat. Tyrion and Sansa sat at a table in the middle of the room and she nodded to an empty chair which Jaime sat in.

Sansa was not as cheerful as the rest of the castle seemed and her eyes looked a little red from weeping. She started to speak and then stopped. "Please leave us…all of you."

Tyrion gave her an odd look. "I think I should…"

"No," she said. "I need speak to him alone."

Tyrion hesitated, nodded, and stood. "Come on, you two,"

"Can't leave her alone with him," the Hound growled.

"He won't hurt me, Sandor. Will you, Ser Jaime?"

"Of course not."

"If he does, he dies," Arya said. "But first there is no pain in the world he will not suffer."

"Yes, yes, of course," Tyrion said. "We will be right outside."

"You've been crying?" Jaime asked when they were alone.

"Yes. She was not just my bodyguard."

"I understand."

"Sandor said that she…I knew how she felt about you."

"Sadly I could not return the words."

"So I gathered. The last I saw of her was in the godswood before they left. She looked like she had been weeping."

Jaime sighed. "That was my fault. She came to me to say how she felt again and again I could not…would not…say the words."

"Because you love Cersei?"

"Now I am not even sure of that."

"She hates me, blames me for Joffrey."

"That was not you, it was Olenna Tyrell."

"I know but I unwittingly wore the necklace with the hidden poison."

"All in the past," Jaime said.

She was a bit surprised. "He was your son."

"Not really. He never knew and we never shared any bond at all."

"I understand. As for your sister…you know what we must do, what Daenerys must do."

"I understand that as well," Jaime replied. "I only ask that I be allowed to go south to see her one more time."

"Tyrion told me what you told him, how she threatened you with Ser Gregor, how she sent Bronn to bring you back. Are you sure she will want to see you?"

"Uncertain. But I must try."

"Others will not think that a good idea."

"Your Queen and brother are not here. That means you are in command. I want to go south with the army."

"We haven't made a plan yet."

"You will need me. If the garrison at Riverrun still lives you will need them to surrender or join you maybe. I can deliver them." This idea had been forming in his mind as he walked towards this meeting.

She nodded. "Very well. Come." She stood and so did he. "It is time to make our plans."

They all went to the great hall where many had gathered and were feasting and drinking, celebrating. As Sansa walked in all stood and a great cheer broke out…and then the hall grew silent as Jaime and Tyrion followed her and Arya and the Hound.

"What is the Kingslayer doing here?" Lord Glover said, his voice weak, though he tried to mask his pain from his lost hand.

Jaime had a quip about teaching Glover how to live with one hand, but held his tongue. They had no love for his kind here.

"He has come to join us in discussing what to do next," Sansa replied. That brought a grumble of talk from them all but no one else protested his presence. Sansa stopped and looked around. "Where is my brother?"

"Bran is still resting," Lord Reed said from where she sat by Lady Mormont's side. "My daughter is watching over him."

"Very well," said Sansa and she went to the head table where Ser Davos was standing. She and Arya and Ser Davos and Tyrion sat while Jaime took a seat to the right side. Jaime knew he should not sit with them, as that would cause more disdain. The big lad called Gendry stood nearby Arya Stark's chair, while the Hound stood behind Sansa's chair, his eyes on the crowd. Jaime knew no one here would harm her. And so did Clegane, as his eyes fell on Jaime, who no one trusted. The Hound grinned a bit, as if to say, 'go on, hard man, try it, and I will chop off more bits of you.' Jaime had no doubts that he could.

Sansa stood and all went silent. "My lords and ladies, good folk all," she began. "You have all heard the wondrous news…tempered by the loss of two more of our friends and allies. Brienne and Tormund died fighting for us. Now please stand and hang your heads and let us give them a moment of silence, as well for them as all those whom we have lost in these terrible wars…family and friends…and pray there are no more."

They did as she asked and Jaime did as well, thinking on her, and his father, and many more. He heard more than one sob coming from the crowd. And he knew her last wish was useless, for more would have to die before this ended and there would be more weeping.

Finally Sansa spoke again. "Thank you. Now we must discuss the future. First, the Queen has commanded us to bring all men and supplies as possible to Harrenhal. Ser Davos, how much of the army is still with us?"

"Not as many as I wish," the gruff sea dog said. "A thousand or so Unsullied, a few hundred Dothraki, the four hundred ironmen, about a thousand Northerners, the same from the Vale, a handful of Night's Watch, and around five hundred of the Fiery Hand. Plus about five or six hundred wildlings. About four and a half thousand my lady, more or less."

So many more they once had, now dead, Jaime knew, from the battles and the cold, and more to come yet.

"Not enough," Lord Manderly said. "But we did not count my men still alive in Oldcastle. How many are there?"

He directed the question to behind where Jaime sat. "Maybe a thousand fighting men," said a woman leaning against the wall. She was dressed in leathers and had a throwing axe at her side and the kraken sigil on her leather armor…and so did her brother Theon leaning against the wall by her side.

"They should not be here!" shouted a voice from the back.

"Iron born scum!" shouted another voice.

Sansa slapped her hand on the table and her face grew angry. "Enough! I have made my peace with the iron born. You will respect my wishes or leave Winterfell!"

There was a lingering silence and then Sansa turned to Lord Manderly. "My lord, what do you suggest we do?"

"Wait," he said. "For winter to end."

"Aye," said Lord Glover. "We will lose more men on the march than in any fight."

"They are not wrong, my lady," Ser Davos added. "Many of those I spoke on are wounded, tired, and plain wore out. Some have been fighting for a long time now. They need a rest. We all do."

"Yes, of course," she said.

"My men do not need to rest," came a voice from the back of the hall. Melisandre walked up the aisle and stood before Sansa. It was the first time Jaime had seen her in days and she did look older and weaker than in the past as was rumored. "Lady Stark, my men are at your disposal."

"We don't want them…or you!" Davos said sharply.

"Ser Davos despises me for good reasons," Melisandre said to the crowd. "I am here and I am willing to face justice for my crimes."

"Hang her," Arya said to Sansa in a calm voice. "Now. Today." Then her eyes fell on Jaime. "Him as well. Let's take care of all unfinished business today."

She stared at him with such cold dead eyes Jaime thought she would come at him with her dagger like he had heard she had done to Baelish.

Tyrion stood. "Now, now, let us not act in haste. The Queen alone has the authority to make such a command."

"She's not our Queen," Glover shouted.

"She is my Queen, my lord," Sansa said sternly. "Jon has also given her his support. We still ask that you do the same."

"Without her and her dragons, you would all be dead now," Tyrion added.

Lady Mormont stood. "We chose Jon Snow as our King. And still wish it were so."

That brought a rousing shout of applause and more shouts of "The King in the North!"

Jaime knew what his father would do in such a situation. Bend the knee, or die, he would tell them, and they would all bend the knee at once. These Starks were too soft, and it had gotten many of them killed.

When the outbreak calmed down Davos looked over at Tyrion. "You're her Hand, you can give the command to hang her."

"True," said Tyrion. "But she has done us good service here. I will not reward such deeds with a rope."

"Agreed," said Sansa, and she looked at Davos. "I am sorry, but that is all I will say on the matter."

He seemed to deflate. "Aye, my lady." But his hard eyes stared at the red woman.

Sansa then looked at Jaime. "Ser Jaime has been given a promise to stand trial when the war is over. Like my father, I will not break my word once given."

That brought more grumbling but no more was said on the matter. Lady Melisandre sat near Jaime and the discussion about the war continued. After long debate several things were decided. First, they would go south, despite the fears of winter and what it could mean if heavy snows came. But they would go by ship, after a march to White Harbor along the White Knife River. The fleet would meet them in White Harbor and then move south to Duskendale or Maidenpool or even King's Landing if so ordered by the Queen. But first they would need at least a week to rest and recover and to gather supplies. Lord Manderly would lead the forces south, with Grey Worm his second in command. The wildlings refused to go, saying their war was done. So did the Night's Watch survivors. All were determined to go back north and recover their lost lands and begin the task of rebuilding. A sense of understanding grew between them, and Jaime later heard Tyrion say that from now on the Wall would only keep out the true enemy if they ever arose again.

As they came to the end of the meeting Lord Manderly raised a point that Jaime had been looking to Sansa to speak on, but as yet she had not.

The rotund lord stood and spoke. "My lady, we have not yet discussed what to do about the garrisons at the Twins and Riverrun. If the demons have not taken care of them we shall have to."

"I would not worry too much about the Twins, my lord," Arya Stark said. Everyone went silent and all eyes were on her. They all knew what she had done, and so did Jaime. She had told the truth during a drinking game with Bronn and some others, so Tyrion said.

"Ah, yes, my lady," Lord Manderly said, sounding a bit uneasy for such a high lord talking to a young girl. "But they may still have some force present. The…assassin…did not kill every Frey."

"All that counted," Tyrion said. "I am sure if any of them still survive then they are quite leaderless now, with some odd cousin or nephew escaping the purge and now finding himself lord of a gaggle of widows and orphans. No, I think if we offer them terms they will easily stand aside."

"They don't deserve any terms," Lady Mormont said, standing once more, a fierce glow on her face. "They killed my mother and King Robb and Lady Catelyn and many more of our people." That brought a rousing sound of shouts from the Northerners. "Lord Tyrion," Lady Mormont continued. "What did your father do when the Reynes of Castamere rose up against your family?"

"He destroyed them, root and stem," Tyrion said, his voice quiet now. "He butchered them all, women, children, the old and sick, and then he pulled down their castles and burnt their villages."

Jaime was watching Sansa's face as Tyrion spoke and he knew even before she spoke what would happen…she would finish what her sister had started.

"When the war with Cersei Lannister is done we will deal with the Twins. You have my word."

That seemed to satisfy everyone, and Jaime knew these damn Starks always tried to keep their word, even if it got them killed.

Sansa pressed on to the next point. "As for Riverrun, the garrison is made up of soldiers from the Twins and Casterly Rock. Ser Jaime says he can induce them to surrender. So he…"

"He's a liar!" someone shouted.

"Don't trust him, my lady," Lord Glover added. "He will go inside the castle and never come out."

Jaime had enough, stood and looked right at Glover. "Now why would I do that? So your queen can come along and roast me later? That would be folly. I have no stake in your war. I am merely trying to save lives. If Riverrun surrenders I will order our men to go home. As for the men from the Twins, you can do as you wish."

"Your men can join us," Davos said. "To help defeat your sister."

"No," said Lord Manderly. "I will not have them in our army. Cannot trust them."

"So be it," Sansa said. "Ser Jamie will travel with the army and do what he can to ensure Riverrun surrenders peacefully. The Lannister men will be paroled to return to their lands, on a promise not to interfere in the coming war. The Frey men will be held prisoner until we decide their fate."

One by one the lords and ladies gave their assent to this plan and the meeting broke up as they began preparations. As Jaime waited for Tyrion to finish talking to Davos and Sansa, Theon Greyjoy came by. Though they had exchanged few words when Jaime had last visited Winterfell, he now had much in common with Theon.

"A strange place for us to be," Theon said.

"It is," Jaime agreed. "They want our blood. Especially her." He was looking at Arya, who was looking back at him and Theon.

"Aye. I heard what she did at the Twins. Last thing I expected from her."

"You grew up here, did you not?"

"I did," Theon replied.

"And still you betrayed them?"

His face clouded over. "Nothing I am proud of. Seems like you are about to betray your family as well."

"I have no more family except for my brother," Jaime replied. The truth of that sunk home as he was led back to his room in the tower with Tyrion alongside him.

"When do we leave?" Jaime asked when back in his room, his lunch tray still there, but the food now cold.

"A week or so," Tyrion said. "Time enough to rest and gain some strength back. The next campaign will be difficult."

"You are coming with us?"

"Of course. I must see it to the end," he said. "And my Queen will need me for what will come after."

"You might lose."

"No, not this time. Cersei will have to run or stand and fight. Whatever the case, soon enough Daenerys will be on the Iron Throne."

"And then she will have my trial."

Tyrion sighed. "Yes. I am afraid so. You killed her father, and she is not likely to ever forget that."

* * *

 **Harrenhal – Daenerys**

Her children were in pain and so was she. So many arrows and spears and sword and axe blades had pierced and cut them she feared both would die. But they did not, yet still they suffered greatly. In the week after the battle, she tended them as best she could, feeding them from the great store of food in the castle, and watching as their wounds slowly healed.

Drogon was the worst for he had stood his ground longer than his brother. She and Jon tended his wounds as best they could but there was little they could do except remove the arrows and spears and keep him fed. The wounds were so numerous they could not hope to close them all even if they had the proper tools to do so. They found bandages and salves in Harrenhal's healing ward, but nothing that would do for a dragon. And so she prayed to her gods and Jon to his, and slowly the dragons began to heal. But they would not fly yet, maybe not for many days or even weeks.

While she and Jon attended the dragons Bronn and Jorah explored the castle and grounds. A few hundred yards from the main gate on a wide road of sorts that led to the Kingsroad they found the remains of a battlefield. Bronn explained what he thought happened as they showed her and Jon the place.

"Caught on the march," the sellsword said. "In column, surprised, about a thousand men." There were some dead horses there, rotting despite the cold, and they found blood, and broken arrows, spears, and swords. A bloody Lannister surcoat told them who it had been. Some blotches of blood were away from the main area, and Bronn said men had tried to run away and had been cut down. There were many supply wagons, all filled to the brim with food and fodder, but they had been untouched. And there were no bodies.

"Wights," Jorah said. "All died and rose again with blue eyes."

That seemed the truth of it. "But where were they going?" she asked.

Jon found the answer. In a saddle bag on a dead horse he found a scroll from Cersei Lannister, commanding her garrison pack up and move to Storm's End.

"She is fleeing the capital," Jorah said.

"Tell me about Storm's End," she asked.

Bronn answered. "A tough nut to crack. High walls, rounded, with no place to grab onto, so smooth the stone is shaped. Cliffs on the seaward side, a small beach and docks for landing, but not much space at all."

"And storms," Jorah added. "That's where Robert's parents died, drowned within sight of shore."

"So…she is retreating," Dany said. "Then we must follow her. Who commands Storm's End?"

"Uncertain," Jorah replied. "But we must assume it is someone loyal to the Baratheons."

"Will he be loyal to Cersei?" Jon asked.

"Again uncertain," said Jorah. "If he was loyal to Robert he will despise Cersei for by now he has heard the rumors of her plot to kill her husband. And the fact she gave him horns by committing incest with her brother. If he was loyal to Stannis or Renly, again uncertain what he will do, but it seems he will have no love for her."

"We must write to him at once," Dany said. "Let us hope there is a bird for Storm's End."

There was, and she wrote the message and sent it off as soon as possible. She wrote more messages, for all the birds in the rookery, and sent messages to the Vale, Dorne, some lords in the Stormlands, and even one to Casterly Rock. But not Riverrun, Jorah said.

"No, they are too close and we are too few, Your Grace," he advised. "If they think we are weak here they will attack us. If they have not been overrun by the demons they will have a strong force, still loyal to her."

"He's right," Jon said. "We will deal with Riverrun when our army arrives or the dragons are better."

"Be nice to have the Reach with us," Bronn said. "Who is in command there now?"

No one knew. The last they heard was the Reach was under the control of the Lannisters and the Tyrell family was either dead or in hiding. "That will have to wait until we know more. I wish Varys was with us."

"Soon they will all be with us," Jon said. "We have to wait and be patient. Cersei has only two options. Flee or fight."

"She will fight," Jorah said. "Fleeing would be too humiliating for her. I think she is ready to die."

"Good," said Dany. "We will make sure she does."

And so they waited. They took the food supplies the Lannisters had been trying to move back to the castle, the carts hauled by two mules they found unharmed. She and Jorah busied themselves with counting what food was in the castle, and Bronn and Jon busied themselves with gathering weapons and armor, sorting them out and making sure they were in good condition. Bronn tried to give Jon the Valyrian steel sword Brianne had called Oathkeeper, telling Jon it had been made from Lord Stark's sword called Ice. Jon told him to hang onto it, for he had a perfectly good sword in Lightbringer. Bronn kept it but said he would not use it as he also had a perfectly good sword that he was quite used to.

In the nights she and Jon lay in each other's arms. The other two knew of course, and she thought Jorah would be mad, but he seemed indifferent. When she mentioned this to Jon and how Jorah had once confessed his love for her, Jon told her that the two of them had once had a long talk about it, and he said he would not stand in their way. She felt bad for her strong bear, for all he done for her that helped get her to this point was because he loved her, but she had found true love once more and knew Jon was the man for her.

After eight days a message came from Winterfell from Sansa, telling them that all gave their thanks for the victory. She was gathering the army, it would be led by Lord Manderly, and they would march to White Harbor and then board ship, making for Maidenpool.

"It is a small harbor, but close to here," Jorah said when they gathered in a tower solar to discuss plans. They found a map among the many scrolls and papers in the room and now it was on a small table as they stood around it. "They can march here in three or four days and then were can use Harrenhal as our base before we march south."

"First to King's Landing," Dany said. "To see what she has left for us."

"And then to Storm's End," Jon said. He looked at her and she smiled and nodded.

"Yes…to finish the war, once and for all."

* * *

 **Winterfell – Sansa**

They found her body in the morning, lying in the snow just inside the south gate, in a place where there were shadows night and day. Her throat was slashed, her blood staining the snow red. No one knew who she was at first, just an old woman in faded and stained red robes. But when Sansa and Sandor arrived on the scene after a guard came to tell them, Sansa knew right away who it was.

"Gods, the red woman."

"What?" Sandor said. "Can't be. She ain't that old."

"Those are her robes," Sansa said. And there in the snow she found something else. The red ruby necklace Melisandre always wore was no longer on her neck, and was broken and lying next to her head. The vibrant red ruby was now dull in color.

One of the Fiery Hand was standing by the body, the big man who had given them the sword that first meeting. His name she forgot but knew he would not be standing here if it was not her. His face was without emotion. She knew he did not speak the Common Tongue and she had no command of his language.

A crowd was gathering and Sandor grabbed some soldiers and told them to keep everyone back. Soon Maester Wolkan and Sam Tarly arrived.

"Who is it?" Sam asked.

"Melisandre," Sansa told him.

Wolkan looked at her in surprise. "No…she was much younger, my lady."

"Her robes, her ruby necklace," Sansa said. "It must be her."

Wolkan looked at the Fiery Hand soldier and began to speak in what Sansa knew was High Valyrian. The man spoke back and after a few moments Wolkan nodded and turned to Sansa.

"You are right, it is her."

"Why does she look like an old hag?" Sandor asked.

"The ruby, he says. It gave her the power of youth," Wolkan answered.

"Bullshit," Sandor replied.

"I only tell you what he tells me," Wolkan said defensively. "He says she wore it for years, and that she was really over eighty years of age."

"Gods," said Sam. "All this time no one knew."

"He did," Sansa said with a nod to the Fiery Hand soldier. "What else can he tell us?"

Wolkan and the man talked some more and finally Wolkan turned to her. "He says she was getting ready for bed last night when suddenly she said she had to meet someone. Then she looked at him and said, 'Do not be angry. Do not take revenge. When I am gone, you and the others may go home.' She left the tent and he saw her no more until now."

"You mean she knew she was going to die?" Sansa asked in skepticism.

"It seems that way," Wolkan replied.

"She said she would die in the North," Sam said. They all looked at him. "Jon told me this, something she said to Varys. She knew she was going to die in the North."

"I heard him say the same," Sansa said.

"I say bullshit again," Sandor said. "No one knows when they are going to die. What you all should be asking is who killed her."

"I know who killed her," Sansa said. "Maester Wolkan, tell him his people can do what they like now. And if they wish they can deal with her remains."

"Yes, my lady. But…who killed her?"

"I have an idea. Now I will find out for certain. Come, Sandor."

They found Davos in the great hall, sitting with Arya and Gendry having breakfast. As she approached she observed them all, three people who had many reasons to want Melisandre dead. They seemed unconcerned, were enjoying themselves…either they did not kill her, or were good at hiding it.

"They don't know yet," Sandor said from her side.

"Perhaps not. Let me do the talking."

As they approached the table, Davos and Gendry stood. "Good morning, my lady," Davos said. "Have you had breakfast yet?"

"No, I…"

"Gendry," Arya said. "Please tell the cook Lady Stark wants her breakfast."

"Wait," Sansa said impatiently, more than a little miffed at the way Arya often said 'Lady Stark'. "There is something to tell you. Sit…please."

They did so and then all looked at her. "Melisandre is dead."

Her eyes were on Davos when she said this and his reaction was genuine, total surprise. His eyes widened and he took a deep breath and said only one word. "How?"

"Her throat was slashed," Sandor said, and Sansa noticed him looking at Arya. "Found her in the snow by the south gate at sunrise," Sandor continued. "Looks like a professional job."

Now they all looked at Arya. "Not me," she said. "But I am glad she is dead."

"Arya, I must know," Sansa said to her sister.

"Not me," she repeated. "I was in bed all night with him."

Arya looked at Gendry when she said this and now the big smith blushed and then nodded. "Yes, it's true."

"I understand the impulse to accuse us, my lady," Davos said. "We three had as good reasons for anyone to see her dead…but I will say though I wanted to do it badly, I did not."

Just then Tyrion arrived, looking hung over and unkempt. "Is it true?" he asked right away.

"Yes," Sansa told her ex-husband. "She is dead."

A jug of ale was on the table. Tyrion picked it up, took a sniff, then a drink and then put it down. "Well…that takes care of one problem."

"Not the only one," Arya said.

"Stop it," Sansa snapped at her. "If you touch Ser Jaime or Theon I will lock you away forever."

Arya stood, calm as she always tried to be these days. "I won't kill them, but like I said many times, there are plenty here who would love to see them join the red woman in hell. Come on, Gendry."

They both stood and left the hall. Tyrion, Sandor, and Sansa sat with Davos. "So," Tyrion began. "What say her men?"

Sansa told them all that had happened and was said. "She knew she was going to die?" Tyrion asked in disbelief. "Nonsense."

"That's what I said," Sandor told him. "Just in a different way."

"Who was she going to meet?" Davos asked.

"He didn't say," Sansa told him. "I don't think she told him."

"So now they will head back to Volantis," Tyrion said. "Well, I can't say they were not valuable. But I understand. She is dead, the war they came to fight is done, and they have no stake in the war with my sister."

They ate breakfast and discussed many things. Soon Maester Wolkan came and said the red men were about to burn Melisandre's remains. They went out to the snows outside the south gate and joined her men and priests as they said goodbye. As Davos stood there watching her burn he said only one thing, "She didn't suffer enough," and he walked away before it was done.

Through Maester Wolkan, Sansa told the leader of the Fiery Hand that they could join with them to march to White Harbor. He refused the offer, said they would leave at once, and that they knew the way, and began to pack up at once. They only asked for some supplies for the journey and Sansa gave them what she could spare. By noon they were gone.

A raven arrived soon after from Varys. The fleet was back in White Harbor and they were recovering the town as best they could, though much had been damaged by the ice dragon's attack.

The news of the red woman's death spread throughout the castle and there were many theories on who killed her. Sansa knew in her heart who had done it, but she would never admit it. She had been trained in Braavos to kill in such a way, and now it was done she would not gloat or brag on it. It had been one thing to brag about killing the Freys for they all wanted them dead. The red woman was different. Jon had promised her a fair hearing, which she would never get now.

Arya would not admit it, so Sansa went to her alibi. She found him at the forge, making a sword with Mikken. "I need to speak to you," she said and she walked away towards the coal and tool shed. Sandor was nearby, but out of earshot.

"My lady?" Gendry said.

Sansa turned around. "I know Arya killed her."

His faced stayed calm as he shook his head. "She was with me all night."

"Did you sleep all night?"

"Ah…some, not all."

"I see. And did she leave you?"

"No."

"How would you know if you slept?"

"I…I just would. She told me she didn't, so I believe her."

"Well, I don't."

He sighed. "What does it matter? She is dead, no one wants revenge, so it's over. And I am glad."

"Why?"

"Do you know what she did to me?"

"Davos told me some. She wanted to burn you…like Shireen."

"If not for him I'd be dead now. She is…was…crazy. If she was still alive someday she would do it again."

"I have to know who did it. Jon will want to know."

"I have nothing more to say, my lady."

He started to dip his head to leave but she had something else to talk to him about. "Wait. My sister."

"I said she didn't…"

"No. This is about you and her."

"Oh?"

"Yes. Everyone is talking. It is not proper, you staying the night with her when you are not…"

"Married?"

"Yes. Have you asked her?"

"Not yet. I think she will not want it."

"Do you love her?"

He blushed and cast his eyes down. "Yes," he said in a bare whisper.

"Then ask, today."

"I…I will, my lady. But…she has no father or mother to ask permission. Sorry, but it's true."

"You have my permission. I am sure Bran would agree."

"But I am a bastard."

"I don't care. And you are the son of a king and Daenerys has hinted you will be Lord Baratheon someday. I think that is enough."

"Aye…aye, thank you…thank you."

"Go and find her."

He ran off, a smile on his face.

"What the hell is he so happy about?" Sandor asked as he came up to her.

"Tell you later."

As they walked back to the great keep Theon and his sister approached. "Lady Stark," Theon began with a dip of his head. His sister just stood there, giving Sansa that same look she had given her on the first day. Sandor was glaring at her.

"Take it easy, big man," Yara Greyjoy said to him. "I don't want your woman."

"She's not my woman, wench," Sandor growled.

"Oh, I see," Yara said. She looked at her brother. "Go on, tell them."

"We will leave on the morrow," Theon said. "Give us time to prepare the ships for the trip south."

She knew why he really wanted to leave. "You don't feel safe here, do you?"

He nodded. "They all hate me. I can hardly sleep, even with guards on my tent. Now the red woman is dead I may be next."

"I am sorry. They do not know you like I do. Yes, maybe it is best to go sooner." Then she had a bad thought. "You are coming south with us to fight Cersei…not sailing back home?" she asked.

"Aye," said Yara. "Otherwise the Queen may have second thoughts about our independence. Are you coming as well?"

"No," Sansa told them. "My place is here." She would never go south again, not after all the terrible things she had suffered there in the past.

"Too bad," Yara said and she walked away.

"I do not understand her," Sansa said to Theon.

"She's different…that's all," he said. "I will prepare our men. My lady."

He dipped his head and was gone, running after his sister.

"No balls, that one," Sandor said. "Even before they took them from him."

"I told you what happened to him, what he did for me."

"Aye, you did. I guess there is some man left in him after all."

The rest of the day was spent in preparing for the trip south. She would not go, but many more would. Arya and Gendry would go as well, her to serve the Queen, him because he would not let her go without him. Tyrion and Jaime would also go, and so would Ser Davos to serve Jon. Lord Manderly would lead the army, and Lady Mormont would go as well. But not Lord Glover. His wound was not healing well, and he finally relented to stay behind.

And then as the day ended Sandor told her he would be going as well. And she knew why.

They were in her solar, her eyes tired from looking at supply reports, him standing by the door, when she asked.

"You will go south as well, won't you?"

"Aye. You know I must go with them."

She nodded. "I know. I wish it weren't so."

"It can't end any other way."

"I can command you to stay here."

"Please don't."

"I am afraid he will kill you."

"Aye, maybe so. But he is all I think about. All I have to look forward to."

"All?"

He cast his eyes down. "No."

She stood and came to his side and knew it was time. "Sandor…we cannot avoid this any longer. We must finish what we started talking about and have been avoiding for days."

"It would do no good," he said and then he turned to the door and opened it but she grabbed his arm and spun him around and slammed the door shut, finding a strength she didn't know she had. He looked at her in astonishment.

"Stop beating yourself up!" she almost screamed at him. "Tell me why you did all those things. Why you are still here, serving me? Why all this time, all you want to do was kill him, but here you are by my side…"

"Because I love you, damnit!" he shouted.

She felt a shock go through her. "Gods," she said in a bare whisper and then his face fell, and for all the wrong reasons, and before she could speak Arya burst through the door.

"Come on!" Arya said in high spirits. "It's time for my wedding!"

She dragged them to the godswood, where a crowd had gathered before the heart tree.

"Arya, can't this wait," Sansa said as they walked there. Her sister was dressed in her usual battle clothes with her weapons at her side. "We should have a proper ceremony, in a sept and…"

"No," she said. "No sept, no septon, no dresses, no foolishness. Before the old gods, the old way, now."

And there they were waiting, Sam, Maester Wolkan, Davos, Tyrion, all the lords and ladies, and Gendry by the tree, looking clean of the grim of the forge for once, and dressed in better clothes. Lord Reed and his daughter Meera were there, with Bran in his chair, waiting on the edge. "Are you ready?" Bran asked Arya.

"I am."

It seemed like everyone was in on this except Sansa and Sandor until the last minute.

The ceremony began as Gendry spoke. "Who comes before the gods?"

Bran answered as he was pushed from behind by Lord Reed, with Arya walking beside his chair. "Arya of House Stark comes here to be wed. She comes to beg the blessing of the gods. Who comes to claim her?"

"I do, Gendry…Gendry Waters…smith."

It sounded so hollow when he said it. All knew he was the son of the king…but until the Queen said it was so he could not claim any titles or the Baratheon name.

Gendry continued. "I claim her. Who gives her?"

"I do," Bran began. "Brandon Stark, of House Stark, brother of Lady Arya." He did not say Lord of Winterfell, for he refused the title. By all rights Sansa should give her away, but by tradition a male relation did so.

And then she felt uneasy, the memories coming back, the time she had been married here…to the monster. She felt faint, her breath coming in gasps, and then she slowly calmed herself. He was dead, and could do her no more harm. More thoughts came, and she could not remember if Ramsey had ever said he loved her. If he had, she would certainly have not believed it. Now she looked over at Tyrion, and knew for certain he had never said it, because he loved another woman. In fact, she could not remember any man ever saying it to her. Both her marriages had been shams, for men to use her, to gain the power of her house and lands. But now someone had said it to her, and he wanted nothing more than to be by her side.

Now Arya was standing by Gendry. "Lady Arya," Bran said. "Do you take this man as your husband?"

"I take this man," she said as they both faced the tree.

"Then before gods and men you are husband and wife forever."

Everyone gave a great cheer as Arya leaped into his arms and they kissed long and with love.

And Sansa knew what she had to do. He was standing beside her and she reached across and took his left hand in her right. For once he was not wearing a gauntlet or gloves and his skin was cold and rough. But she squeezed his hand and then she looked up at him, and smiled and he grinned back, and squeezed her hand back, and no words needed to be said for how they felt about each other.


	13. Chapter 13

**Game of Thrones Season 8 Chapter 13**

 _Author's Note: Apologies for the delay in this chapter. I was very busy with the end of school term and the holidays over the last month. And it was hard to get back in the mood, so I only started again after the New Year. Hopefully those who like it are still reading. Enjoy._

 **Storm's End – Cersei**

The Dornish camp was laid out in military precision, the tents in orderly rows, with ditches and stakes marking their perimeter, men with spears with watchful eyes, and two tall towers built of rough-hewed wood, with platforms on top filled with crossbowmen. At the center lay Lord Anders Yronwood's large pavilion.

Cersei's carriage crossed though a gap in the lines, with Qyburn sitting by her side, and six of her guard on horseback around her. Ser Gregor did not come, for his head they wanted and he would be a distraction. Also with her was Harry Strickland, to represent the Golden Company.

Five days she had been at this windy, cold place, five days with nothing accomplished. She had sent word to Ser Cortnay Penrose that if he surrendered then she would give generous terms, including letting him become ruler of the Stormlands. He spat at her offer, sending her messenger back with a terse no, and adding that when the true queen of Westeros arrived she and all her followers would get a hot reception.

"Stubborn fool," she said when she got the message. She knew why he had refused. It all went back to Robert. They loved him here, and would never forgive her or follow her no matter what she offered. Ravens they saw flying from the castle, messages going out to her enemies she knew. The Golden Company had a group of skilled archers from the Summer Islands. Some ravens they managed to shoot down, but others got away. It mattered not. Her one true enemy already knew where she was.

With her when she had gotten the reply were Qyburn, Strickland, and Rivers, all seated at table in her own royal pavilion. Rivers' men had found the smuggler's cave the night before along the shoreline, but the passage under the rock was barred with heavy iron gates and a company of maybe two dozen men all armed with crossbows. Rivers lost three men just inspecting it.

"We'll need a good battering ram to break it," Rivers said. "And still he can fill the passage with men and block us, and build more barriers inside, make us pay in blood for every step."

"Then you had best get on with it," Cersei said and Rivers and Strickland looked at each other.

"Your Grace," Strickland began. "Our men won't do it."

She gritted her teeth. "I am paying your men to do it."

"You are," said Rivers. "But they are not suicidal. They have no stake in your war. And we have no way to compel them."

"Hang a few and they will change their minds," she shot back.

"I hang one and the rest will kill me," said Strickland. "They are mercenaries. Long odds and forlorn hopes are not what they signed up for. They will refuse any such order."

Cersei had more curses on the tip of her tongue for these weak fools when they were interrupted by a scout from the Golden Company. The guards let him in and he got down on one knee in front of her chair.

"Stand. Report," she said.

He stood and spoke. "The Dornish are making camp two miles south of here, Your Grace. Must have arrived in the night."

"How many?" Rivers asked his man.

"Don't know," the scout said. "But at least as many we got here for sure. Maybe more."

Cersei knew what she had to do. She turned to Qyburn. "Send one of my men, a lord or a knight at the very least. A peace banner. Tell Lord Yronwood I wish to meet him here as soon as possible."

"Yes, Your Grace."

But Yronwood had refused to come to her camp…so she swallowed her pride and went to his. Qyburn and Strickland and Rivers all advised against this.

"The Dornish have no love for your family," Qyburn needlessly reminder her.

"And they never will," she shot back. "But if I remember my history they despise Targaryens with equal anger. If I am to get allies I must go begging, and so I will. Today I will swallow my pride. Tomorrow Yronwood and the rest will know my true nature. After that whore is defeated and the Northern rats go scurrying home.

Yronwood was waiting for them outside his pavilion, surrounded by many men, all with different sigils on their surcoats and armor. Many of the sigils she knew, some not, but it was he she had eyes for. Handsome and tall and of blond hair, Yronwood was of the interior mountain Dornish, not the hot-blooded desert dwellers like Prince Oberyn Martell had been. Perhaps his coolness would lead to an accord. She knew Yronwood's family had once been rulers of Dorne, long ago before the Martells, and now he was in a position to rule again…and would join her, if she gave him what she wanted.

One of her guards helped her down from the carriage. Lord Anders and the rest dipped their heads but did not get down on bended knee. "Your Grace, welcome," Anders Yronwood said. A good beginning at least, she thought.

"Lord Anders," she replied. She had met him once, years ago, when she and Robert had wed. "The years have been kind to you."

"You as well," he replied. "Now we are in a position to reap what is left of the ashes of this terrible war."

"Yes. A war that is coming to a conclusion I hope…with your aid."

"That we shall have to discuss," he said as he stepped aside and a squire by the pavilion opened the flap. Inside she went with Qyburn and Strickland by her side and her guards behind her. No one said a word but she saw Yronwood was counting her guards and knew there was only six and that the one he wanted was not here.

A large table covered with food and wine and ale was surrounded by ten chairs. Yronwood offered her the chair at the head of the table, with him on her right and Qyburn on her left, Strickland beside him, and her guards stood behind her. After introductions were made the other lords sat the length of the table. Wine was poured, food offered, and then the servants departed. After they broke bread and sipped wine, Cersei began to speak.

"I will agree to your terms, my lord…except one."

Lord Anders knew which one she meant for Qyburn had written to them such an offer. "He is but one man," Anders replied.

"A loyal man and I will not repay such loyalty with treachery."

"A noble gesture. But I cannot get my people to ally themselves with you unless we have justice for our prince's murder."

Qyburn spoke. "Prince Oberyn died in a trial by combat. It was not murder."

"Perhaps not," Anders agreed. "But the death of Elia and her children was. Do not try to deny he did it. Everyone knows it was him."

"I will not deny it," Cersei said, and knew they would not budge on this matter. She sighed. "Very well. If I give you Ser Gregor, what do I get in return?"

"All of Dorne's military forces will be at your disposal." He looked at Strickland. "With the Golden Company at our side, the dragon queen will have little chance to defeat us."

Strickland grunted. "Dragons breathe fire, my lord. Neither your men nor mine are immune to that. You can ask the Lannister army about it. And they only faced one."

"We have heard of this terrible battle," Anders replied. "Yet the rumor is she has only two of her three dragons now. If one can die, so can the others. How did you kill it?"

"We did not kill her dragon," Qyburn said. "The Night King did."

"Another rumor, the army of the dead," said one of Yronwood's men in a scoffing tone. "Northern fairy tales."

"Not tales," Cersei said with a stern look to the one who had spoken. "We have seen one of these undead men called wights. It tried to kill me when Jon Snow and his people brought it before me."

"Who is Jon Snow?" someone else asked.

"Ned Stark's bastard," Anders answered. "Defeated the Bolton's and was called King in the North."

"He is allies with the Targaryen whore now," Cersei said with obvious distaste. "He even bent the knee to her."

"So he and the dragon queen are facing the undead," Anders said to this. "What news of their war?"

"They have already defeated the undead," Qyburn told them and after a flurry of questions they explained all they knew.

"Despite their victory they will be weak," Anders stated. "It will take time for them to get here. Time enough for us to prepare to meet these dragons."

"Should we not meet them further north, my lord?" Qyburn suggested.

"No," Anders said. "Our supply lines meet here. We can choose our own ground and wait for them. Further north it is colder. Traveling there will weaken us. No, we await them here. Daenerys Targaryen knows she must defeat you before Westeros will call her queen. She will come."

"We need Storm's End first," Cersei said.

Anders shook his head. "An impossible task. The walls are too high and stout."

"This we know," Strickland said in exasperation. "Penrose is not going to just open his gates for us."

"I am afraid I have no solution to that problem," Anders said. "And starving them out will take time. If his larders are full, it could take months."

"There may be a way inside Storm's End," Qyburn offered. "There is a tunnel under the castle by the beach. But blocked and well-guarded."

Anders looked at Strickland. "Why have you not attacked here?"

"My men will not do it. A fool's hope it is."

"See what I have to deal with," Cersei said, with a hint of anger in her tone. "I need loyal brave men willing to die for their Queen."

"And Dorne needs vengeance against those who wronged us," Anders replied.

She hesitated and then it came to her. "Does it matter how he dies?"

"No, but we would prefer to do it ourselves."

"Of course…but he is a fearsome warrior."

"More dead than alive," Qyburn added. "He will be most difficult to kill. Prince Oberyn's poison did not kill him, but he is not much of a man anymore. He never sleeps, never eats…he just lives. And kills who we tell him to kill. I saw him cut down twelve men once and he didn't get a scratch."

That caused some muttering among the men of Dorne. "But he can die, can he not?" one lord asked.

"I believe if you can cut off his head he will be no more," Qyburn replied. "The trouble is getting close enough to do so. And his neck is so very well armored and thick.'

After more mutterings Lord Anders looked at her and the six men in armor behind her. "Your guards here seem like strong brave men. Why cannot they do it?"

"Some will die. And he is their brother. They all understand the need to do this, but will balk if I give the command." This she had discussed with them already. All were knights of various houses loyal to her family from the west, men whose families had always sided with hers…but they may all be killed by Ser Gregor and she needed them.

"If you have suggestions, Your Grace, I will listen," Anders said.

"Let Ser Gregor lead the charge under the castle," she answered, knowing what must be done. "If he lives through the battle, then you may take his head afterwards…anyway you can. We will not stand in your way."

"So be it," Anders said. "We will draw up the accords and you will sign it…now."

Parchment was brought forth, the details discussed, the terms agreed to and Cersei signed and affixed her sigil stamp. When done she expected them to bend the knee and declare loyalty but Yronwood had different plans.

"When the monster is dead we will bend the knee."

The meeting concluded and they travelled back to their camp. Cersei felt a burning anger at having to give up so much independence to them…but she would more than double her forces. The dragons couldn't kill all of them. And after the wars the rest of the kingdoms could scarce put ten thousand men in the field. She had swallowed her pride but it had been necessary. She would miss Ser Gregor, but sacrifices would have to be made if she was to rule a united kingdom. Now all they had to do was take the castle and wait for the enemy.

* * *

 **White Harbor – Arya**

Seven days it took them to reach White Harbor along the frozen river. It was a long cold ride, but no enemies were trying to kill them, so that was one small comfort. Almost four thousand people went from Winterfell on a cold morning. It seemed so few, compared to the hosts that had arrived not so long ago. But the cold had done in many Dothraki and Unsullied, the natural cold and the cold from the turned dragon Viserion. Many more had succumbed to sickness they had no defenses against, being from foreign lands. Or so Sam Tarly had explained, saying people from one land were used to some sickness but not ones not native to their land. Arya was not sure of this but it seemed the easterners had taken ill and died more readily than those of Westeros.

Still, they had a strong force and with two dragons they would give Cersei a fight. Northmen, Dothraki, Unsullied, Vale men, with hundreds of horses, donkeys and oxen, plus plenty of supplies, were in the long column heading south and east. Everyone healthy enough would be going south for the final battles to come, including Arya and her husband, Gendry. She could scarce believe they had gotten married. It still seemed like a dream to her, and for once in a long time she was happy.

Riding with them was the Hound, Ser Davos, plus Tyrion and Ser Jaime. Grey Worm was all healed up from an earlier wound and now again led the Unsullied. Sam Tarly came as their healer and raven keeper. Lady Mormont and Lord Manderly represented the North. Lord Glover did not come, his wound still bothering him a great deal. He stayed to be advisor to Sansa, who had sworn she would never leave the North again and held to this promise. Besides she had plenty to do with trying to bring order to the North from the recent wars.

Theon and his sister had left with all of their men two days earlier. They had to prepare the fleet, Sansa said, but Arya knew Theon wanted to be gone from Winterfell as fast as he could. She kept her promise not to kill him, but every time she looked at him she could not help but think of Ser Rodrik and Maester Luwin and many more that had fallen to the iron born. Sansa made her peace with them, but many in the North would never agree or ever forgive the iron born.

Before they had left, Arya and her sister discussed the thing she had hoped to avoid.

"I know it was you," Sansa had said to Arya as they stood on the battlements of Winterfell looking over the fields where much blood had been spilled and snow was falling once more. "Just tell me why."

Arya was tired of denying it and knew Sansa would keep her secret. "You know why."

"Revenge? Because she took Gendry?"

"Yes…and Davos," Arya answered. "I did it to save him."

"I don't understand."

"He wanted to kill her, but he would fail, he would die…and I could not let that happen. Davos saved Gendry from her. It was a debt I owed him. He could not let Shireen's death go unpunished and would make a stupid attempt to kill her and fail. You would not give the order, Tyrion would not, and Jon and the Queen would give her a trial first. Did Shireen have a trial? Did Gendry? Did any of the people she burned on Dragonstone have a trial?"

"I see," her sister replied. "I understand why. But you know I must tell Jon and Daenerys."

"I will tell them when I see them."

"So, you still want to go south?"

"There is one more person who must die." They didn't need to say who. Arya looked past her sister to where the Hound was standing nearby, snow gathering in his hair and beard. "He wants to go too, to kill his brother."

Sansa nodded, and Arya saw fear in her eyes. "I know. I tried to talk him out of it…he won't let it go."

"He won't win," Arya said.

"I fear not," Sansa gasped in reply and then she abruptly turned and walked right past the Hound without looking at him. The big man stood there, a sad look on his face, and did not say a word or follow her.

"She doesn't understand," Arya said to him after she walked over to where he stood.

"Aye, no one does who hasn't been scarred like I have."

"Betrayed would be a better word."

"Maybe so. At least you got your vengeance."

"It wasn't me."

"Quit with the lies. I know it was you."

"How?"

"Only three people wanted her dead. Davos hasn't got the balls to do it. Or the skill. And your man would worry about what would happen to him and you if he had done it. But you, you didn't care. You knew where to go, and you knew how to do it."

"I didn't plan it. She was just standing there," Arya confessed. "I was walking to the south gate to check on the guards and there she was. I wasn't even looking for her."

"But you wanted her dead."

"Most certainly."

"So you stumbled on her and decided to end it?"

"No…she came looking for me. She said, 'My lord told me it would be you. I have done what I was meant to do, to give the sword to your brother. Now I am ready to rest.' That's it. She lifted her chin a bit and before I could stop myself it was done. And then…gods, she changed before my eyes into that old woman they found."

"Bloody hell."

"Some foul magic she had," Arya said, a slight hint of fear in her voice. She hoped no one would come seeking revenge on her. She knew magic of a sort was real, had seen enough of a different kind of magic that she had learned in the House of Black and White in Braavos.

Then she thought of something else. "What is between you and my sister?"

"Nothing. I am her guard dog. That's it."

"Liar. I know it is more. In Braavos I played the game of faces. I know when someone lies or tells the truth. You and Sansa are both terrible at it. I see how you look at each other."

He glared at her and then his scarred face softened, and he nodded once. "Aye, maybe there is something."

"Well. Then you had best do something about it."

"Not till my brother is dead. Come on, its bloody freezing and I'm hungry."

They left the next morning, with Sansa, Maester Wolkan, Bran, the Reeds, and many more standing by the gate, wishing them well. A crate of ravens Wolkan gave to Sam, all trained to fly back to Winterfell, and he told Sam to report often with news.

When the Hound came past Sansa she would not even look at him, cast her eyes away, and the big man rode on. Arya stopped and got off her horse. "Keep going," she said to her husband. "I need have words with Sansa."

She dragged Sansa inside the gate and behind some crates and bales of fodder. "Leave it be," her sister told her, knowing what she wanted.

"No," Arya replied. "Tell me the truth. I trusted you. Now trust me."

Sansa sighed. "He says he loves me."

"Gods. So it's true."

"What?"

"I can see it on your faces. You love him too."

"I…don't know. He is...he is a brute, a killer, a…a…"

"Man who has done all he could to protect you ever since he met you? Right?"

"Yes. And more."

"So…what now?"

"Nothing," Sansa said. "I begged him to stay. He cannot live he said while Gregor still lives as well."

"I can understand that."

"So can I…in a way. If only…if only could say the words back. Maybe he would stay. Now it is too late."

"He knows, I am sure."

"And still he won't stay," Sansa said, sighing heavily in regret. "If I order him to stay here he will resent me forever. And if I let him go I fear I will never see him again."

Arya had no answer to this, but tried to reassure Sansa. "I will make sure he comes back."

"How?"

"I…I don't know."

There was nothing more to say. They hugged and said their goodbyes and as Arya mounted her horse again Sansa had one last request. "Do one thing for me," Sansa said. "Tell Cersei I did not kill Joffrey…but wish I had. And tell her thank you."

"Thank you? For what?" Arya asked in surprise.

"For making me the woman I am now."

That had been a week ago. Now the white walls of White Harbor's land defenses loomed in front of them across a snowy field. Swarms of workers were at the main gate, repairing damage done by the wight attack. Outside it awaiting them was Varys and Lord Manderly's son, Ser Wylis. Lord Manderly dismounted and met them.

"Father," Ser Wylis Manderly said. "The city is safe…now."

He looked abash, as if he had failed. But Lord Manderly would have none of it. He stepped forward and clasped his son's shoulders.

"You did more than I could have hoped," he said. "You saved many."

"Not enough."

"Let us not look back on failure, let us look ahead to the future. We have come far and are cold and tired. Help settle the army."

Orders were shouted and the long column entered the city. Lord Manderly and his son went ahead to see to things and the rest of the command party stood outside to talk to Varys.

"Ah, there is our missing friend," said Tyrion as he finally arrived at the gate and climbed down awkwardly from his horse. He almost fell but Gendry managed to steady him with a gentle grasp on his small shoulder. "Thank you," Tyrion said and then his eyes fell on Varys. "Had a bit of excitement yourself I see."

"Nothing I enjoyed," Varys said. "Running and hiding from wights is all the excitement I need for a lifetime." He then dipped his head to Arya. "Congratulations on your wedding, my lady."

Arya had not seen the rotund master of whisperers in years. Yet he knew who she was and much else. She was about to ask how he knew, but then she remembered who he was.

"Thank you," she said and he smiled.

"What news of our sister?" Ser Jaime asked Varys.

"Ser Jaime, so long it has been."

"Dispense with the pleasantries," Jaime replied tartly. "Where is Cersei now?"

"Gone to Storm's End," Varys replied.

"How do you know?" Tyrion asked.

"I have had a raven from Jon Snow at Harrenhal. They found a letter in a dead Lannister soldier's saddlebag calling on all her forces to march south to join her there. More news from King's Landing tells me she abandoned the capital over ten days ago…but not before blowing up the Red Keep with wildfire."

"The bitch," the Hound cursed. "How many did that kill?"

"I know not," said Varys. "It seems her strategy is to take Storm's End and hold out as long as she can, hoping we will be weakened or defeated."

"Weakened but not defeated," said Arya.

"So it seems," said Varys. "My lords and ladies, let us enter and find somewhere warmer to continue this discussion."

As they walked inside the talk continued. "I bet a similar letter went to Riverrun," Tyrion said. "Any news from there or the Twins?"

"None from Riverrun. But the Twins has heard of the victory over the undead. They wrote and asked for terms."

"Why did they write you and not Winterfell?" Tyrion asked.

"Seems their new leader wants the Manderlys to act as negotiators," Varys replied. "He knows he will get no favorable answer from Winterfell."

"Who is their new leader?" Arya asked. She had hoped she had killed all of the Freys but knew that was not very likely.

"Their new leader is a young boy, scarcely a man, a grandson of one of Lord Walder's bastards. He is all that is left." The way he looked at her she was certain she knew she had killed the rest.

"The only terms they will get is steel and fire," Lady Mormont said and no one disagreed.

They finally went inside the city and caught up to Lord Manderly and his son. The walls were broken in places, and many buildings had damage. Arya saw Lord Manderly's face look stricken at the sight of so much damage. Many of his people were hard at work making repairs. When they saw their lord they stopped and briefly dipped their heads and then continued with their work.

All was not lost. The wharves and docks seemed undamaged and the harbor was full of ships, getting ready to sail south.

A short time later they were all inside the large castle that was home to the Manderlys. They ate and cleaned up and now met in Lord Manderly's solar to discuss all they knew. Theon and Yara Greyjoy joined them. Arya eyed Theon and he quickly looked away.

For a long time Varys spoke on all he knew, most of which Arya had already heard. It was decided to leave in two days' time, weather permitting, and they would land at Maidenpool, then march overland to Harrenhal. A raven message was prepared and sent to Harrenhal. After that they were shown to proper quarters. As a lady of Winterfell and as a husband and wife Gendry and Arya were given a nice sent of rooms, with a large bedroom and a smaller sitting room and entrance area. Exhausted from their travels they crawled into bed, hugged and quickly fell asleep.

She awoke early as usual. Gendry was still asleep and she did not want to disturb him so she carefully climbed out of the bed. The floor was cold and so was the hearth, so she stirred the embers and added some wood. After using the privy she got dressed and went into the smaller entrance room and began to do her exercises, stretching and moving like a cat, spinning and dancing, and then doing the same with her weapons in hand. When she felt it was enough she stopped. Gendry still slept and outside it was still dark. She was hungry so she left the room to head for the kitchens, wherever that may be. Follow the smell of food. Or ask a servant. They always knew.

An old man stooped under a bundle of small sticks of wood was just down the hall. "Excuse me, where are the kitchens?"

"I'm heading there, milady. Follow me."

She walked behind him and as he turned a corner into a corridor with less light his load of wood fell from his back, scattering on the stone floor.

"Oh, my," he said. "Clumsy old fool."

"Not to worry," Arya said as she stooped to help him…and then cold steel was at her throat.

"A girl has been busy," said a familiar voice.

Gods, it was him. "Jaqen?"

"A name a girl knows a man by, so a familiar face a man will show a girl. Stand."

She did so with the knife still at her throat. The old man was no longer stooped, was young and tall and strong…he was Jaqen H'ghar.

"Are you going to kill me?" Arya asked, finding herself strangely calm.

"If a man wanted a girl dead a girl would be dead."

"Then take the knife away."

He nodded and did so, the knife hand dropping to his side. "And now a girl thinks on how to kill a man, yes?"

"Yes, my face you can read. But first tell me why you are here looking for me."

"A girl is wise. Yes, a man is looking for you. How many have you killed? Fifty? More?"

"More."

"And who gave a girl this command? Who named the names?"

"I did."

"Our training is not for revenge. This many times a man told a girl."

"They killed my mother, my brother, many more."

"It matters not. The day one enters the House of Black and White one gives up all family ties. One trains and obeys. There is nothing more."

"Is that why you sent the waif after me?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't you kill me yourself?"

"After you killed the other girl a man was not allowed to kill this girl. There are those like me who had a better plan."

"What plan?"

"To have a girl here, in Westeros, waiting…for orders."

Gods. "I will not kill for you."

"A girl will kill."

"Then you had best kill me now," she said and then Needle was out and at his chest, like she had done so many months ago in Braavos.

He did not even attempt to defend himself. "Kill a man and others will come…and will not be so pleasant. And they will kill more than a girl."

"Bloody hell," she said as her sword point dropped. "Fine, so who do you want dead?"

"A ship sailed from a queen. Letters a queen sent, names a queen named, the price a queen paid."

"Cersei, you are talking about Cersei Lannister."

"Just so. The names on the letter are Jon Snow and Daenerys Targaryen."

Arya felt a lurch in her heart and in her world. "No," she said without thinking. Then she remembered the rule. "I know them. You always said we do not kill those we know. It's a rule."

"A girl has broken this rule many times."

"I was defending myself, killing those who wronged my family."

"A girl will obey…or there will be consequences."

"And if a girl kills a man now?"

"All of Braavos will come after a girl's family. A sister in her castle, a brother in his chair, a husband in his bed, all and everyone who a girl loves will die. A girl knows we can do this. A girl must obey."

Her heart sunk and she felt like crying, but kept her face calm. "Jon is my brother. Daenerys is my friend. I can't do it."

"Names have been named. A girl has her orders. Obey…or suffer. It is the price you owe us, for a girl's betrayal of our ways. One month a girl has. We will be watching."

He said no more and turned and walked away and she just stood there, in the quiet, in the near darkness, and felt her whole world spin out of control. She knew he did not lie. If she did not obey they would kill all she loved. Kill some so others could live. But who lived, who died? She would die if she killed Jon and Dany. She could never face the world again. Would have to flee or die…yes, she could…no, if she killed herself they would just send someone else.

And then came the thought. Kill them…all of them…but how?

Impossible. But then she knew what she had to do. If Cersei died first, maybe the order would not have to be carried out. If Cersei died…there would be no need to kill Jon and Dany.

"Jaqen!" she shouted and she ran the way he had gone.

He hadn't gone far. "Will a girl kill a man now?"

"No. What happens if I kill Cersei first?"

"There is no contract to kill this woman."

"Wait…yes, there is now."

"Who makes this contract?"

"I do."

He nodded. "A girl wishes a woman dead. How will she pay?"

"I will do the job. There is no need to make payment."

"There is always need to make payment. For this, the House of Black and White demands 100,000 gold dragons."

"Bloody hell."

"A girl does not have the fee? Sorry, a man cannot accept the contract."

He turned to go. "Wait. My sister has it…in Winterfell. I will write her at once and tell her to pay it."

"A girl understands what happens if a girl's sister does not pay?"

"A girl understands. Does a man understand I will do the contract in my sister's name?"

"A man does. A girl now has three names to kill."

"Does a man understand if I kill a queen first, I will not have to kill the others?"

He pursed his lips and thought on it. "It is most irregular. A contract has been made. Fees have been sent."

"I will buy out the contract."

"No. Once a contract is made we fulfill it. Only the maker can cancel it."

"What if I make Cersei cancel the contract?"

"Then it will be cancelled, the fees returned. But how can a girl make a queen cancel it?"

"I don't know…I will find a way."

"Until a girl does, the contract stays."

"How long do I have?"

"One month a man said. Then they will come for a girl, a girl's family, and the two names on the contract. A man cannot stop them."

One month. It seemed like a long time, but not really. She also felt so very stupid. She didn't have to tell him she would kill Cersei, but now that she had he took it as a contract she was doing for them and the fees had to be paid. She had hoped he would agree the contract ended once she was dead but they did not work like that. In all her time at the House of Black and White she had never learned even the simplest of rules.

Suddenly she knew she had to say something to make things better between them. He started to go and was a few steps away when she knew she had to say it. "Jaqen…I am sorry I betrayed you."

He stopped but did not turn back. "A girl did not betray a man. A girl betrayed herself to her inner feelings. Never should a girl have entered the House of Black and White."

"Why not?"

Now he turned back to look at her. He spoke and as he did so his voice changed and with a shock she felt it was her father speaking to her. "Because you are Arya Stark of House Stark of Winterfell, my child. And you always were and always will be. Arya Stark, we will not meet again. Goodbye."

* * *

 **Harrenhal – Jon**

Ravens came and went from the great castle. Word came from Ser Cortnay Penrose. He pledge his loyalty to Daenerys and gave as much information as he could. Cersei and the Golden Company had arrived at Storm's End…and so had a Dornish army. He did not know the numbers but it had to be much more than they could bring to a battlefield. And still the dragons were healing.

Another raven came from Winterfell. The army had left, almost four thousand strong…not enough. Maybe another thousand men at White Harbor but still not enough.

There was more news from Winterfell. "The red woman is dead," Jon told them as they sat at their midday meal. Three would eat while one stood watch from the battlements over the main gates. Now it was Bronn's turn.

Dany had a cup to her lips when he said this. She quickly put it down. "How?"

"Murdered," Jon said. "Her throat slit."

"Who did it?" Ser Jorah Mormont asked.

"Sansa doesn't say."

"Or doesn't know," Dany ventured.

"Who would want her dead?" Jorah asked.

"Many," said Jon. "Davos, most of all. Arya and maybe Gendry, too."

"There is nothing we can do from here," Dany said.

Aye, nothing they could do, Jon silently agreed. Nothing but wait.

Suddenly they heard a horn blowing. "Bronn," Jorah said as he stood and grabbed his sword. Jon grabbed Lightbringer and all three rushed out into the cold.

"Stay right fucking there!" Bronn was shouting down to a crowd of people by the main gate when they arrived on the battlements above it.

"We just want to serve!" a man shouted back.

"Who is it?" Dany asked Bronn.

"Said they used to live and work here, for Lady Whent," Bronn told her. "Said they fled during the wars. Now they want to come home."

"Let us meet them," Dany said and all four went down to the main gate. The inner gate was open and then the long tunnel under the walls was crossed to the outer gate. All three men had their swords in hand when the outer gate was open.

There must have been twenty people, men, women, some children, some old, most young. Most were well clothed but they had pinched faces and hungry eyes. As one they got down on one knee. The oldest man spoke for them.

"Your Grace," he said. "We heard of you coming here. We just want to serve. Work at our trades for someone worthy once more."

"I see," she said. "And what is your trade, good man?"

"Smith, Your Grace. We got washerwomen, cooks, stable boys, a carpenter, masons, and many more in nearby villages."

"You used to serve Lady Whent?" Jon asked.

"Aye, my lord."

"Where is the lady now?" Jorah asked.

"Ran to her cousin's home in the Vale when the Lannisters came, my lord. Took her guards and a few others with her. Some of us stayed under the Lannisters but we never liked it. We just wants to come back and serve, Your Grace."

"I don't trust them," Bronn said.

"Well, I do," said Dany. "And we could use the help. Rise, my good people…and welcome home."

They settled in quickly for this was their home. They had plenty of food in the castle, and much work to do and Jon knew they would need more hands before long. He told the old man to send word far and wide and ask the people to come here.

"Asking for trouble," Bronn said.

"Aye," Ser Jorah agreed. "Riverrun will hear of this before long."

Four days later Riverrun came calling. Not to attack, as Bronn expected, but to bend the knee. Lord Edmure Tully was at their head, and with him were twenty Riverlands men with the silver trout of the Tullys on their surcoats.

Jon and Ser Jorah met them at the main gate, with Bronn behind them and up above ten men they had been training to use crossbows.

Jon had met Lord Edmure years ago, when he visited Winterfell once. Ser Edmure he had been then, a haughty young man who chased women and looked down his nose at Jon the bastard. Jon wondered if he would remember him.

Lord Edmure climbed off his horse and smiled. "I am Lord Edmure Tully."

"I am Jon Snow, my lord. Warden of the North," Jon added for effect.

Edmure didn't remember what Jon looked like and his face betrayed his surprise. "Jon Snow, now Warden of the North. A title your father once held. Well met after all these years" said Lord Edmure with a friendly grin and a hand stuck out. When no grin was returned nor his offered hand grasped, his cheer left him. "I see. A cold welcome we will get."

"Did you expect bands and flowers?" Jorah asked. "For a man who betrayed his family?"

"You I know," Edmure replied, his voice no longer friendly at all. "Ser Jorah Mormont of Bear Island. Ned wanted your head but you ran. I heard of your return from self-imposed exile. And here you stand, daring to speak to me of betraying one's family?"

"Ser Jorah has been pardoned for his crimes," Jon said.

"You make it sound as if I committed crimes as well," Edmure said. "Do tell me, Jon Snow, Warden of the North, what crime did I commit?"

Jon hesitated. "I know not. All I know is what Brienne of Tarth told us. That you let the Freys and Lannisters take Riverrun and kill your uncle."

"My uncle had a chance to run away. He had a chance to save his life. The stubborn fool insisted on fighting and so he died."

"At least he had some honor," Jon said. "And what were you doing when Freys were butchering my brother Robb and his mother and hundreds more Northmen and men of the Riverlands?"

Now Edmure looked away and seemed embarrassed. "I did not know that would happen…did not know it had happened…until it was too late. They dragged me to my wedding bed and let my sweet wife Roslin distract me as musicians played loudly outside our room. Only after did I know the truth. They put me in chains and a dark hole for so long I forgot what the sun looked like."

"Aye, maybe it was so," Jorah said to him. "But why surrender Riverrun?"

"The Freys took me out of my hole and dragged me to my home, hoping to force my uncle to surrender by threatening me. But they knew him not. Then Roslin had our child. Ser Jaime himself came and threatened my new son, who I had never seen. Threatened to raze the castle and kill all my people. What man can call himself a father and a leader and allow that? I did what I had to do to protect my people."

Jon understood. Caught between two impossible choices, he took the lesser of the two evils. "All that is behind us. I leave it to your people to forgive you," Jon said and Edmure's face seemed to brighten. "Where is the Lannister garrison of Riverrun?"

"Gone," he replied. "Two weeks past they received orders from Cersei to join them in the south. They would not tell me where they were going. Took almost all our food and were gone in a day."

"And the Freys?" Ser Jorah asked.

"Some went home when they heard of the massacre there," Edmure told them. "Three days ago we heard you were here. The fool Frey left in command demanded we attack. So I killed him…and the few remaining died soon after."

"Good," said Jon. "Mayhaps Robb and Lady Catelyn and the others can rest easier now."

"May the gods grant it so," Edmure replied, his face full of sadness.

"There is a new Queen in Westeros," Jon said next. "She demands your loyalty and the loyalty of Riverrun and all the Riverlands."

"She has it," Edmure declared and a short time later he and his men bent the knee to Daenerys in the main courtyard and pledged their loyalty to her.

"Rise, my lord," Dany said to Edmure. "I command you to send word to all parts of your lands. I need every able bodied man to join our ranks. And we need more to support out forces."

"Few are left after all the wars, Your Grace," Edmure answered.

"We have plenty of food here," Jorah told him. "Maybe that will entice them to come."

It did and over the next week word went out and many more arrived. Soon the castle was bustling with people training, working, and preparing for the march south. They had plenty of arms and armor so that was not a problem. But many men were untrained and so Jorah and Bronn got to work turning them into soldiers.

Jon was busy as well, going here and there and doing what he could to help. Soon stories spread, of all he had done in his time at the Wall and in the great battles north and here. He blamed Bronn for it.

"Drinking and telling stories, were you?" Jon said to him one morning.

"Aye. They need to know who their commander is."

"Please stop it. They all look at me with big eyes now. Especially the women. One even tried to follow me to my room last night."

"Well, if you don't fancy them just send them to my room. Look, I tell the stories for one reason. They have to believe in what we are doing. They have to know you have their back. They have to know you won't lead them to their deaths without a fighting chance."

"I can fly a dragon and have a magic sword. Did you tell them that?"

"Aye, I did. So if they don't believe in you now they will never believe in anyone."

The dragons were a subject of much interest. No one went near them but some days Jon saw people just standing and staring at them, especially the children, as if something magical had come into their lives. And it had.

Then the army arrived, and how few there were was a shock to Jon and Dany and the rest. So many had gone north and so few were coming back.

But many familiar faces were there. Varys, Tyrion, Sam, Lady Mormont, Lord Manderly…even Theon and his sister. Long they talked on many things, caught up on news, and talked about their battles and doings. But not all was so friendly. Lord Edmure gave Ser Jaime a cold greeting and Ser Jaime seemed to have expected it.

"He hates me," Jon overheard Ser Jaime said.

"You threatened his son," Jon reminded him.

"So he told you that story. A different time and place. I did what I had to do to avoid bloodshed."

"He said the same."

Later at night when all was settled Tyrion came to him and Dany alone in her solar. "Your sister Arya had a message for you two."

"Yes?" Jon said.

"Be wary of assassins."

"That's it?" Dany asked. "She need not have said such. I am always wary of assassins, and have been for years."

"When did she tell you this?" Jon asked.

"On the Kingsroad, before she and Gendry and the Hound left us."

"Arya was with you?" Jon said in shock. "Why didn't she come here? Where is she going?"

"She wouldn't tell me. All I know is she came with us by ship to Maidenpool. When we reached the road to here, she and Gendry and the Hound kept going south on the main Kingsroad. I asked her why and all she said was she had a job to do."

"Gods, what the hell is going on?" Jon asked in anger. He had enough to worry about without Arya going off on some mad adventure.

"Well, I am no seer," said Tyrion. "But if by a job, she means to kill someone, there is only one person she could have meant. My sister."

"She will fail," Dany said. "Cersei is surrounded by two armies and may already be inside Storm's End."

"Arya did kill all those Freys," Tyrion reminded them. "And it would be a good thing to see Cersei dead without forcing a battle. Maybe we can avoid a lot of unnecessary pain."

"But she will never get near Cersei and will get killed trying. I have to stop her."

"How?" Tyrion asked. "She is at least a day ahead of you. Can the dragons fly?"

"Not yet," Dany said. "Jon…I know you worry about her, but she is not a child anymore. And she has two of the strongest men in the kingdoms by her side. She must have her reasons for doing what she is doing."

Jon sighed. "I hope so. There is nothing we can do about it for now."

Three days later they finally moved south. The weather was cold but sunny with no snow. And the dragons were finally healed enough. After a few test flights Jon and Dany knew the two dragons were ready. By now they had almost six thousand under arms and a further thousand in support. Some they would lose to the cold for sure, but if most reached the south and the dragons as well they had a fighting chance.

Eight days it took to reach King's Landing. It snowed once but not too much fell. A joyous crowd of a few thousands greeted the army by the gates. Many more peeked cautiously out of ruin buildings. As he and Dany flew over the city they could see most of the damage. Some was being repair but much was in ruins. A few ships were in the Blackwater Rush by the Mud Gate but it was mostly empty.

And the Red Keep was in almost total ruins, a tumbled mass of broken masonry piled high with no discernible shape to it at all. As they flew over it the smell of smoke and death was strong.

They landed in a small space nearby the ruins. Dany climbed down from Drogon and Jon soon joined her.

"She left me nothing," Dany said in a forlorn voice.

"We can rebuild it," Jon reassured her. She turned and smiled at him and they both reached out at the same time and held hands.

And then from around them people began to appear. Smallfolk all, they stared in awe at the dragons and at the two people holding hands. And then one by one they got down on one knee.

A small girl approached. She dipped her head, long blond hair falling across her eyes. "Follow me."

She held out her hand and Dany smiled at her and took it. Jon followed, looking around warily as the other people followed them through the ruins.

At last they came to one place where much of the broken masonry had been cleared away. It was a long room, with the stubs of broken off columns in two ranks emerging from the floor. There was no roof and no walls remaining.

But there it was, on a raised and cracked dais…the Iron Throne, whole, undamaged.

"It's waiting for you," the small girl said to Dany.

Jon could see the emotion welling up in Dany's eyes. "Help me," she said in a shaky voice. He took one hand and the girl took the other. All around them were hundreds of people, looking at them in awe. And then Tyrion, Ser Jorah, Bronn, Varys, Grey Worm, and Sam and many more were there as well.

She climbed the steps and then stood before the seat of her forefathers…and hesitated.

"Jon…it's not proper…it's not a coronation," she stammered.

"It is time…Your Grace. They are waiting. Have been waiting…for a long time for someone like you."

She turned around to look out at them all. As one they got down on bended knee.

They let go of her hands and she sat on the throne, with Jon on one side and the girl on the other, both also now on bended knee, and as one the crowd gave out a great shout of approval and clapped long and loud. And as if to give the final seal of approval, Drogon and Rhaegal drowned out all noise as they roared with joy, for once more a Targaryen was seated on the Iron Throne, and all seemed right in the world again.


	14. Chapter 14

**Game of Thrones Season 8 Chapter 14**

 **The Kingsroad – Arya**

"You're out of your fucking mind!" the Hound shouted at her when she first told him her plan back in White Harbor.

Arya had been expecting it, knew it was crazy, but she had no choice. Kill Jon and Dany, or kill Cersei first. But not before she wrote a letter saying the contract was cancelled.

"How can we do that?" Gendry asked when she told him what had happened. He was calm, a rock, listening carefully, asking a few questions, then trying to help her figure out what to do. They were in their rooms in White Harbor, not long after her confrontation with Jaqen. Of course Gendry knew who he was and what he was capable of, having seen it first hand at Harrenhal.

"You can't kill Jon and the Queen," he said right away.

"Never, but if I don't someone else will."

"We have to warn them."

"We will…but it won't do much good," she said as she paced across the floor of their bedroom. "You don't know them like I do. They take a contract and then they kill, no matter what. It's all about their reputation."

"If they kill our Queen the whole of Westeros will come after them."

"I thought of that too, but she's not our queen…not yet." Then an idea came like a flash of light. "Maybe they don't kill queens! Maybe once she is crowned the contract will be cancelled!"

"But not for Jon."

She sighed. "No, not for him. So we have to get to Cersei. Make her cancel it."

"How?"

"Don't worry about that. If I have to cut off all her toes and her ears and nose, she will do it."

"Maybe. But how do we get to her?"

"We can't. I will."

Now he got a bit mad. "There's no way I am letting you go all by yourself."

She smiled at that. "No…not for the first part. But the end, if she's in Storm's End…that will be up to me to get close to her."

"Getting close to Storm's End won't be easy. We need help."

"Maybe…and I know just the person to ask. He wants to go there, too."

They found the Hound in the exercise yard where he was sharpening his sword. They quietly told him what was up and when done he got very angry at them. "You're both mad, you know? They'll catch you and hold you for ransom or to make your brother throw down his sword. Or worse."

"Not if you're with us," Arya said.

"I'm just one man. She's got a whole fucking army. Golden Company, Lannister men, even the Dornish by now I bet."

"And your brother," Gendry added.

The Hound took a menacing step towards him. Gendry wasn't small but the Hound had him beat in size and strength. "Listen, you shit. My brother and I will meet someday, but I'm not dragging you two along on some fool's adventure."

"When Cersei dies, the war ends," Arya said. "If she cancel's the contract I can save Jon and the Queen. You help us, you get a chance to kill Gregor. I will make sure the Queen agrees."

He was about to shout again but he paused and looked at her. "How?"

"She's my friend. She will do it."

He scoffed. "Queens always make promises they can't or won't keep."

"Not this one," Arya shot back.

The Hound took a deep breath and then nodded. "Maybe. But how you going to explain this to the rest? Davos, Tyrion?"

"We say nothing," Gendry said. "Till we get near Harrenhal."

And so it went. Tyrion was quite mad, as was Davos. "Now what in seven hells do I tell your brother?" Tyrion demanded of Arya as they sat on horseback near the intersection of the road to King's Landing and Harrenhal. Behind them the army was marching along at a steady pace, Unsullied, Dothraki, Northmen, iron born, and the rest, with plenty of horses, mules, donkeys, all pulling wagons with supplies.

"That I have a job to do, that's all," Arya told him.

"He won't like it," Davos said, worry etched on his lined face. "I don't like it, either."

"We're going," the Hound said in his grim way. "Don't you fucking try to stop us."

"No, we won't," Tyrion told them, resigned to their plan. "It's Gregor, isn't it?"

"Aye. It's time."

"Well, then, I shall wish you all good fortune."

Davos shook his head. "It's madness." He looked at Gendry. "You agree with all this?"

"I go where she goes," the big smith replied.

"Aye, love will do that to you," Davos said. "Make you do foolish things. Right, if you are going, then use some sense. Take a pack mule and some supplies. A tent as well. Gods knows what you will find for shelter. And Cersei's men could be anywhere on the Kingsroad or at the capital. Best to avoid it altogether."

"Hard to do that," Arya said as she looked around. "The road is the only sure way south in all this snow. But we will try to be careful. Thank you." As the Hound and Gendry went off with Davos to get some supplies, she moved her horse closer to Tyrion and lowered her voice. "Tell Jon and the Queen to be careful. There may be assassins in Westeros."

"What? Do you know something?"

"Just…tell them to be wary."

"That's it?"

"Yes."

He stared at her and then nodded. "I will."

A short time later they were on their own, heading south, three horses and a pack mule with a tent and more food loaded on it. A cold wind was blowing across the road, making snow drift in their path. "South," said the Hound. "About time. No more freezing cold for us. If I never see the North again I will be glad."

"Oh?" said Arya in a teasing tone. "And here I thought you were in love with my sister."

The Hound cursed as Gendry laughed. "What's this now?" Gendry asked.

The Hound didn't deny it but he was not happy. "You'd best keep such things to yourself," he growled at her.

"Why?" she asked in reply.

"No use talking about what can never be."

"Why not?" Gendry asked next.

"Cause of who she is and who I am."

"Rubbish," said Arya.

"If a smith can marry a lady, why can't you?" Gendry added.

"Marriage?" the Hound gasped. "Stop it, no more. Mind where you go and keep your eyes peeled for Lannister men."

"I doubt we'll see any of them," Arya said. "All gone south for their queen."

She was right. For seven days they saw hardly a soul. The wars had devastated the lands, and they only found shelter a few nights in inns. But on the first day they had a nice surprise. They came upon the inn where Arya had lost Nymeria and the Hound had killed the butcher's boy, the same place where she and Gendry had been turned over to the Brotherhood. But all those bad memories mattered not now, for their friend Hot Pie still worked there and they had a nice reunion. They ate a big meal, caught up on all their stories, and shocked the rotund baker's boy by telling him they were married.

"Gosh," said Hot Pie. "That's grand. I'll have to bake you a nice pie for a wedding gift."

It was ready in the morning, a nice hot apple pie, and after breakfast they took what was left of it and said their goodbyes. "When the war is done, you can go home to King's Landing," Arya told him. "I'll help you set up your own bakery."

He was stunned. "That would be great. But I can't pay for such."

"Don't worry about that," she told him.

"Thanks," he said in a shy voice.

As they climbed on their horses the Hound was stuffing his face with another piece of the pie. "Is it good?" Hot Pie asked

"Good enough," the big man said after gulping his food. "Come on, you two. We ride."

And so once again they said goodbye to Hot Pie.

Coin they had, and room and food they got at other places, but other nights they were forced to make do in the tent. One sat guard while the other two slept. The cold wasn't as bad as it had been up north, but it was still cold. They built a fire in the shelter of woods, set up the tent, and after eating a hot meal got some rest.

It was on one of these nights that Nymeria came back to her.

She heard the howling first, sitting by the fire as the other two slept in the tent, their snores loud enough to be heard outside. Then slowly see saw the eyes, pinpricks of yellow glowing in the darkness.

"Get up!" she shouted as she pulled out Needle with one hand and grabbed a long stick of burning wood with the other. "Wolves! Get up!"

They were up in a flash, standing by her side near the tent, weapons in hand, the Hound with his huge sword and Gendry with the new war hammer he had made. Gendry also picked up a burning stick.

"Get some fire," he said to the Hound.

"Fuck that, I'll gut them all."

Then Arya felt it, sensed it…a presence…Nymeria.

"Gods…it's her."

There she was, coming out of the trees, into the firelight, a huge direwolf, Nymeria. She stared at Arya, her eyes glowing.

"Hello, girl," Arya said. "Nymeria."

Nymeria growled and sniffed, staying where she was. "Arya," said Gendry with worry. "This is your direwolf?"

"Aye. Nymeria. I lost her…when…when…"

"I killed your butcher's boy," the Hound said, some regret in his tone.

"Sansa and Joffrey lied. He never hit him. But Nymeria did bite him."

"All in the past," the Hound said.

"I was forced to make her run away," Arya said, a choking feeling in her throat, constricting her words. She looked at Nymeria. "I'm sorry. I had to do it. So you could live. But they killed your sister instead. I'm sorry."

Nymeria slowly walked around the fire to her. Arya dropped her burning stick and reached out and touched her head.

And Nymeria howled.

It was so loud they thought the sound would never end. All around them more wolves howled, as if the entire forest was full of them. The horses and mule were going mad with fear and the Hound and Gendry had to grab their reins and hold them still.

Then Nymeria ran away and they heard many feet running after her.

"No…come back!" she shouted, starting to move into the forest, but Gendry grabbed her.

"No…it's too dangerous!"

She sighed and nodded and he let go. "She'll come back. She must."

The next morning they packed up and were on the road shortly after breakfast.

"I don't see your pet," the Hound said.

"She'll be back."

Arya knew, because she could sense her, out there, moving through the forest off the Kingsroad. And then they heard her howl. They looked left and she was on a small hill, all alone, and slowly she came down to the road. The horses began to get skittish again.

"In front," Arya said to Nymeria and the big direwolf moved far in front of them, padding alone in the slushy muddy road.

"So, she coming with us to Storm's End?" the Hound asked.

"Yes."

"I don't think they let direwolves in inns," Gendry said.

"We'll see," was all she said, a big smile on her face. Things were going well…but it didn't mean they would continue to do so. And she that big worry as well. How could she get to Cersei and make her do what she had to do? If she didn't, Jon and Dany didn't have a chance. The Faceless Men were relentless, and would never stop until the one they were after was dead.

* * *

 **King's Landing – Daenerys**

Her impromptu coronation over, and with the dragons safely placed in the Dragonpit, it was time for the new Queen to get down to business. A thousand and one problems confronted her, but none was more urgent than feeding the many people still in the city. Much in storage had been destroyed in the various attacks, and Cersei's men had taken much more. The only blessing was that there were now fewer mouths to feed. Still, they would fall short eventually.

"Harrenhal still has plenty, Your Grace," Davos reminded her. They were in the Tower of the Hand, in quarters Cersei had occupied and then abandoned, the servants told them. With her were her small council, Jon, Davos, Tyrion, Jorah, and Varys. Grey Worm, Lord Manderly, and Lord Edmure Tully should have been there as well, but they were still busy settling the soldiers. And Theon and Yara had only this morning taken a merchant ship and had sailed back to Maidenpool to collect and bring the rest of the fleet south, weather permitting.

After a short discussion she gave the command and Davos and Jorah got to work organizing men and wagons and horses and mules to begin ferrying rations from the great castle of Harrenhal to the capital.

"It still won't be enough, in the long run, Your Grace," Tyrion said after Davos and Jorah had left them.

"And only the gods know when winter will end," Jon added.

"May I make a suggestion, Your Grace?" Varys asked. She nodded to him and he continued. "The Free Cities will be seeking to renew contacts soon enough, once they learn of your victories. I suggest we send out word to them, asking for food aid."

"But how will it be paid for it?" Dany asked. The coffers were empty and most of the coin she had brought from Meereen had been spent on supplies and her army's clothing and a thousand other things.

"We pay in the future," Varys said. "In coin or supplies. Westeros has plenty of wood, fish, furs, iron ore, coal, and other commodities the east desires. Surely someone will want to begin relations, even if payment will be made in the future."

"What about the coin from the wagon train attack?" Jon asked. "The coin of the Reach that Ser Jaime stole."

"Not ours, at least not all," said Tyrion. "Bronn told me that most of that coin reached the city before our attack, so we got little out of that mess. And if we are to secure the Reach as allies, they may demand it back, what little we have."

"For certain they will," Varys said. "My little birds are out now seeking their new leaders. We should hear from them shortly. And they will want it all back, not just the few sacks we have."

"Cersei has the rest," Jon said.

"Not anymore," Varys told them. "She used it to secure the loan for the Golden Company contract."

"We cannot pay them what we don't have and never stole," Dany said. "They can place the blame for all that on Ser Jaime and Cersei."

"But they were our allies, Your Grace," Tyrion reminded her. "So they will be expecting some compensation."

"I have nothing to offer them," she said in exasperation. "Gods, who else is waiting for a hand out?"

"Ah, that reminds me," Tyrion said. "We have to start making payments soon."

"Payments?" Dany asked. "To whom else do we owe money?"

"The Iron Bank," Tyrion said and he pushed on before she could ask what he meant. "I found a letter in Cersei's solar…sorry, Your Grace, your solar now. Seems my sister forgot it when she hastily packed up. It's from the Iron Bank, reminding her of her debts and the current interest rate."

"What's that to do with me?" Dany asked in surprise.

Varys looked pained. "Your Grace…the Iron Bank cares not who wins the war, only that they get their due. Cersei took the loans as Queen of Westeros…so they will be expecting the crown to repay the loans, no matter who sits the Iron Throne."

"That's mad," Jon said, anger on his face. "Cersei took the loans, not our Queen."

Tyrion had an answer to that. "I am afraid the Iron Bank does not think the way most people do. Yes, Cersei took the loans, but in their eyes the crown did. So the crown owes them. Joffrey had similar words when he discovered how much his father was in debt. Littlefinger told him the same, that it was the crown's debt, not Robert's."

"Bloody hell," Jon said to that. Then he had another thought. "The Unsullied took Casterly Rock. Surely we got some coin from there."

"Sadly, no," said Tyrion. "My family's gold mines had run dry in recent years, a secret my father kept from the realm. Oh, there is coin there, but not as much as we need. Besides, that is my family's coin, not the realm's coin. I would be willing to offer some to the crown, but…"

"No," said Dany sharply. "I will not start my reign by robbing my lords. We shall have to raise coin in other ways."

"Taxes on the land and import duties," said Varys. "The traditional way. But hard to collect in wartime."

"When I was Hand to Joffrey I taxed the whorehouses and wine sinks of this city," Tyrion said. "They hated me for it, but still we raised some coin."

"Will it be enough?" she asked.

"No, Your Grace," said Varys. "Fewer such places exist now and the people that remain have less coin than before."

"My dear Varys," Tyrion said with a grin. "People you know not at all it seems. In times of trouble, they will spend more on the pleasures of the flesh, not less."

"Thank you my lord for schooling me on such matters," Varys replied. "But it will still not be enough."

"Do it," Dany commanded.

"They will despise you," Jon said in worry.

Dany sighed, feeling trapped. "We must raise money and we need food. When their bellies are full they will thank me…I hope. But raising that coin will take time. Right now we have to find a way to secure more food for the people. Let us send ships and letters east. Lord Varys, I believe Illyrio Mopatis in Pentos will be acceptable to sending us food now, with payment in the future."

"I am sure he will, Your Grace. After all he did help you and your brother a great deal in the past. I shall write to him at once. But I must warn you he will expect some consideration other than payment in the future…perhaps a lowering of taxes on imports."

"Offer him what you think appropriate," she told him. "But don't sell my whole kingdom."

"Of course not, Your Grace." Varys stood, dipped his head, and was gone.

"That just leaves the war," Tyrion said as he poured some wine for himself from a glass decanter on the table.

"The war will have to wait," Jon told them. "Everyone is tried and worn out. I think it best we wait here for a week at least. We should also send out letters to all we can, asking them to declare their loyalty and send us aid."

"Of course," Dany said. "Tyrion, I believe that is a task for a man of words."

"Most certainly." He gulped some wine, stood, and dipped his head and was soon gone as well, leaving Dany and Jon alone for the first time since Harrenhal. Everyone seemed to know how they felt for each other, but still they were cautious, and spent their nights apart on the road south.

They looked at each other across the table. "Not as easy as I thought it would be," she said.

"Nothing worth doing ever is…Your Grace."

She smiled. "You don't have to call me that when we are alone, Jon."

He came to her side and looked down at her belly, which was still not showing her condition. "How are you?" he asked with concern.

"Fine…not sick anymore, so that is good. Sam said all is well."

"Sam? You told Sam?" Jon said in surprise.

"Yes, he's our healer…he…what's wrong?"

"Nothing…just…I wanted us to be wed before anyone else found out. And Sam, gods love him, his mouth does run sometimes."

"He will keep our secret."

"Let us hope. Arya might suspect also. It was she who told me of your sickness."

"Yes…gods, her message about assassins. I have been thinking on it."

"So have I," Jon said. "She knows assassins…she's trained with them, but never before has she warned us about them. Maybe she has some information about a planned attack."

"Only one person would order such an attack."

"I know. But how can we protect you?"

"Me?" she said in alarm. "I am more worried about you."

"I can take care of myself.'

"Jon…sorry, but you have never faced such an enemy. In the east, I was trained from childhood to expect men with knives in the night, in the market, anywhere I went. I have a sense of it now, of who belongs where, and who doesn't. In the east I survived over a dozen attempts to kill me."

"Gods, I did not know."

"Few do. Barristan Selmy saved me once. Jorah, another time. And Varys at times sent assassins with one hand and word for me to run with the other. No, don't get mad. He was playing the game, preparing for my or my brother's return, keeping Robert happy while ensuring we would survive. If other men had sent the assassins we would have had no warnings of them."

"A dangerous game he played with your life."

"I am still here."

"Still, it is time you had a bodyguard, more than my sister. A Queensguard. Traditionally they have been picked from the best knights of the realm."

"Yes, perhaps you are right. But no knights. I will pick men from among the Unsullied and Dothraki. They I will trust with my life more than any Westrosi knights whose loyalty is not certain."

"As you wish."

"And what about you? Who will guard you?"

"I said…"

"No…I want someone…Bronn! Yes, perfect. He will be by your side always."

Jon looked to protest then nodded. "I suppose he is some brothel or wine sink this time of day."

Just then Varys came back. "A raven has arrived from Ser Cortnay, Your Grace. It seems the Dornish and Cersei have joined forces outside of Storm's End. Already they are preparing a large encampment, with siege lines facing the castle and other lines face north and west."

"Gods," Dany said. "How many men does she have now?"

"Well over 40,000 it appears."

The numbers made her heart sink. She looked at Jon. "And us?"

"Less than ten thousand."

"Plus two dragons," Varys said with a hopeful hint.

"And the castle," Jon added. "With Storm's End at their backs they will have to be wary. Maybe we can send reinforcements by sea. We must write back."

"A sound idea," Varys said. "But Ser Cortnay also says this is his last raven for the capital. Seems the enemy archers keep shooting them down. I'd hesitate to send word of our battle plans on such a dangerous route."

"Yes," Dany agreed. "We must be cautious. They could intercept our messages. And if the castle has already fallen we will be facing a very difficult situation, my lords."

* * *

 **Storm's End – Ser Gregor**

Pain he had known most of his life. First came the headaches, when he was just a boy. The maesters said it was because he had grown so large, so fast, but he knew it was something else, in his head always was the pressure, dulling his senses, giving him a constant throbbing ache. Ale and wine helped, but soon it wasn't enough. Milk of the poppy was better, but expensive, and difficult to find at times. When the pain was at its worst he lashed out, and people got hurt…or died. His brother's face in the fire, his sister falling down the stairs in the family keep, his sword in his father's belly in the forest.

When his sister and father died and he had almost killed his brother a second time he fled to the Lannisters, and they gave him a purpose, a place in their ranks, and access to coin and the milk, to dull the pain.

So he served for years, a dog of war, going where Lord Tywin told him, killing who he told him to kill, including the Dornish woman and her brats. They have to die, he told Gregor at the gates to the Red Keep that bloody day, so Robert could hold the throne.

Years passed, years of boredom and failed marriages. Years where his brother and he were kept apart, for Sandor wanted his head, and Lord Tywin needed them both. Sandor still wanted his head, and said as much when they met briefly in the Dragonpit.

And then a new war began, and once more he was unleashed on his lord's enemies and all was right. But the Dornish never forgot or forgave what he had done. The Dornishman came for revenge. He was small, but agile…with poison on his spear. Such pain he had never known, filling his belly, making him scream…then came peace. He thought he was dead…he could rest at last.

But no….it was worse…much worse.

"You will serve the Queen," Qyburn said to him when the fog cleared and he realized he was still alive. He tried to speak but couldn't. He could hear and understand but his voice was gone, his vocal cords seemingly paralyzed. All he could do was nod his head. He felt no pain, no need to sleep, no desire for food or drink or women. The pains were gone but he was left with…nothing, except an awareness of this nothingness. When he saw his face reflected in a basin of water he knew he had truly become a monster.

So he served her, he fought her enemies, killed them, tortured them, soaked the ground with their blood. Now once more they asked him to do what he did best.

He stood outside her pavilion, on guard as always, as all around the men of two armies busied preparing siege lines. Her voice summoned him inside.

There she sat, the royal bitch, as he used to call her when he had a voice. His men laughed at that many times. She was his lord's daughter, the king's wife, but he knew how cold she was, and how much like her father she wanted to be. "She needs to grow a pair of balls first," one of his men had jested, and that brought more laughter as they ate and drank. The memory bothered him, for such joy and comradeship he would never have again. Now he had six new brothers, knights all, but they feared him, he knew, and could smell their fear when near him. He could cut them to pieces and not even care.

"Ser Gregor, we have a task for you," the Queen told him. She was sitting at a table, with Qyburn on one side and the tall blond Dornishman called Yronwood on the other. The weakling called Strickland was also there. The Dornishman gave him a cold stare but he only had eyes for the Queen. She nodded to Qyburn and he began to speak.

"Ser Gregor, there is an iron gate, in a cave on the seashore by the castle. It is heavily guarded. But we must have access. We need you to lead an assault, into the castle, and to the main gates. Fifty men you will lead, all Dornishmen. Once the cave tunnel is breached we can send two hundred men of the Golden Company to follow your party." He turned to Yronwood. "That should be sufficient?"

"Perhaps, depending on how many men they have."

"We will have surprise," said Strickland. "Once the killing starts they will panic." His eyes turned to Gregor. "Especially when they see him."

"Very well," the Queen said. "You leave after sunset, Ser Gregor. Dismissed."

He dipped his head, turned, and left. As he was exiting the tent flap, he heard Yronwood speak. "Does the brute even understand?"

"Oh, I assure you he does," Qyburn replied.

He heard, he understood…more than they knew.

The Dornish hated him, had for years, wanted him dead, one had tried to kill him already…and now they were here again. His Queen and brothers had gone to their camp to talk. Qyburn told him the Dornish would be offended if Gregor also went. Maybe so. But now this attack…Ser Gregor Clegane did not survive so many battles because of brute strength alone. He knew something was up. The Dornish had joined the Queen…but why?

There had to be only one answer. They have offered his head. If so, one other person would die…her, the bitch. Before death's warm embrace finally took him she would die as well.

Darkness came and Qyburn came to him. "It is time, my friend. I wish you fortune…and…be careful. Oh, dear."

He looked and sounded sad and now Gregor knew for certain. At times Qyburn spoke to him as a parent to a child and that somehow warmed Gregor's cold heart. But he could never forget it was this madman who had kept him alive in this state of nothingness when he should have just cut off his head and be done with it. When the bitch died, he would be next, his creator.

They took a roundabout route so prying eyes on the castle walls would not see them. There was no moon and the sky was cloudy, with a drizzle starting to fall. They moved slowly, a guide in front, then Strickland and one of his officers, Rivers, then Gregor, and fifty Dornishmen. Many were armed with crossbows, others had big wooden shields. Before they left, Rivers told them the plan.

"I'm leading you. There will be many enemy crossbow men inside. We use the shields to protect us, get close to the gate and jump out behind the shields and shoot them through the iron bars of the gate. Once we whittle them down, Ser Gregor will charge and open the gate. A simple iron chain and lock. Can you smash it?"

He nodded and Rivers nodded back. "Right. Once the gate is open we charge inside. No quarter until the whole castle surrenders. And no stopping for plunder."

"The Queen has one more command," Strickland said. "No rape, no murder. Any man who disobeys will be hung. Plunder will be divided equally, with you men getting first choice…if you live."

"Enough talk," said a Dornishman in front. "Time for blood."

"Good luck," Strickland said and he stepped aside. A half hour of stumbling and trying to be quiet brought them to the seaward side of the castle. Down on a narrow beach they walked, the sea to their right crashing on the beach, the spray and drizzle making them wet. To their left was nothing but darkness, the cliff and the high walls above.

Suddenly came the distinct _twang_ of a crossbow firing from the darkness head of them. A Dornishman grunted, let out a groan, and crumpled to the sand. Their crossbows fired in return and for a few moments bolts flew back and forth. Gregor charged and saw four bowmen. One was already falling with a bolt in his throat, two were reloading, and the last saw Gregor and fired his crossbow in fear, the bolt going wide, and then he dropped his crossbow and ran. Gregor sliced the head off of one man, the left arm off another, and caught the last one from behind and skewered him.

In the melee one more Dornishman died, and two got wounded. The Dornish left two other men to help them back to camp. "No sense being quiet now," Rivers said. "Come on!"

Down they ran and there was the tunnel, a short river of water cutting through rock out to the sea, with the sea trying to push it back in at the same time. The water was shallow and they splashed through it to a flat place on the other side. As they did so more bolts came out of the dark tunnel, and another man died. But now shields were up and they formed a wall and advanced down the tunnel, half in the water, half not.

Down at the end they saw torches and many men behind an iron gate. For ten minutes they worked forward, men shouting, firing, reloading on both sides, cursing, bleeding, dying. Gregor waited for the chance to charge. Bolts bounced off his thick armor, bothering him not the least.

Finally Rivers gave the command. "CHARGE!"

Gregor ran from behind the shield wall, his massive sword in hand and in front of him he saw men's eyes go wide in terror. "Fuck!" someone shouted. "It's him!"

The few survivors ran before Gregor even got to the gate. His sword came down and the chain and lock were smashed. Up they went, inside. And behind him men stabbed and killed the wounded enemy.

A narrow set of stairs was around a bend, and up it Gregor went. Two brave souls at the top fired bolts at him but when they saw them bounce off his black armor they ran as well. More tunnels and rooms they came upon, filled with men, and a hard fight they had, but soon they prevailed, as reinforcements from the Golden Company joined them, and panic spread before the massive figure of Gregor Clegane slaughtering all he saw.

In an hour it was over. Behind them came more Dornishmen and men of the Golden Company. They rampaged through the castle, killing any armed man, even if he dropped his sword. Gregor killed over a dozen men and would have killed more but they fled when they saw him. His sword and armor were dripping in blood. Out into the outer courtyard they finally emerged, the sky still dark, but many torches and lanterns were about, giving them light to continue the killing. The hardest part was at the main gate where forty men fought till the end and men on battlements shot arrows and bolts down on them. Some of the Golden Company's deadly archers were inside by then and took care of those on high with precise volleys of arrows. Still, a dozen and a half Dornishmen and twenty or so of the Golden Company died as well, and many were wounded. As the main castle gates opened and the army outside it charged in, the survivors fled into the great central keep of the castle, including their leader.

From a high balcony Ser Cortnay Penrose shouted down curses at them. Rivers shouted back. "You have lost, Ser Cortnay. Surrender and we will spare everyone. If not, we will kill them all."

"Maybe so," he shouted back. "But the dragon queen will soon be here and roast you all alive."

A young girl was brought forth, held by two Golden Company men, tears streaming down her cheeks. Rivers looked at Ser Gregor. "Kill her."

The girl screamed, cried, struggled in the grip of the two men who held her. The girl was so like his sister…her death had been an accident. One morning he awoke, his head screaming in pain, and he had staggered from his bedroom down the stairs, seeking wine, when he bumped into her and she fell. Days later she was dead.

His sword came up, but did not fall. Rivers gave him an odd look, and then she was there, the bitch.

"What's all this?" the Queen demanded. With her was Strickland, Yronwood, Gregor's six brothers of the Queensguard, Qyburn, and a dozen other lords and sers, none of whom had done any fighting at all. Many men at arms carrying torches and lanterns surrounded them.

"Your Grace," Rivers said. "The castle is yours."

"I can see that," she snapped. "Why is Ser Gregor about to kill a little girl?"

"Penrose is hold up in the central keep. A little persuasion to make him open its gates."

"Fool," she said. "Ser Gregor, lower your sword." He did so. "We do not kill our subjects, idiots," the Queen continued. "Not ones so young anyway. Go girl, go to your family."

The girl ran away as fast as she could. "There will be no murder, no rape, I commanded," the Queen reminded them. "I need loyal subjects, not terrified lackeys."

"And what if Penrose does not surrender, Your Grace?" Strickland asked.

"Starve him out," Yronwood said. "Most of his garrison is dead, he is surrounded. Soon he will face a rebellion among whatever few followers he has left in there."

No sooner had he said these words than a head fell down at their feet from above. It was of an old man, grey haired and whiskered. "Ser Cortnay, I presume," Yronwood said.

Strickland stepped over and looked at the head in the mud. "It's him, all right."

The gates to the central keep opened and those inside surrendered. "Who killed him?" the Queen asked as about thirty men came out and laid down their arms, followed by many terrified smallfolk. They all got down on their knees before her.

A handsome young man dressed in chainmail spoke. "I did, Your Grace."

"Do I know you?" she asked, a curious look on her face.

"Yes, Your Grace. Ser Devin Haldain. I once served as a squire to the master of arms in King Robert's court."

"Of course. Now I remember." She looked at the head of Penrose and back to the boy. "Why did you kill him?"

"To prove my loyalty to you, Your Grace. And he was a fool. He refused your generous terms."

"Well done, Ser Devin. Pick up your sword. Rise and join me." He stood and came to her side. "A drink in my pavilion seems like a nice reward."

"I would be honored, Your Grace." The Queen and the boy knight started to walk back toward the main gates.

"Your Grace," Yronwood said. "We had a deal."

She stopped, turned and gave Gregor a long look, and then turned to Yronwood. "We did. Do as you please."

As all this was going on Gregor had watched them slowly move to surround him, the Dornishmen…he had been right, they wanted his head, and her words told him she had agreed.

From the depths of his soul he found his voice at last. Out it came, a grumbling, rumbling tortuous sound of a man who had lived hardly a day in peace, one word that those there would never forget.

"BITCHHHHHHH!"

His massive sword was already swinging when the word ended. Qyburn died first, cut in two at the waist, a strange look on his face, of surprise and shock, as his two bloody halves fell into the mud and snow of the courtyard.

Yronwood was next but he managed to duck his blow and run behind a dozen of his men. Gregor ignored him, and them, and charged the bitch. Two of his brothers and the young knight were the only ones able to step in front of her in time.

The boy died first, his head flying through the air like he had done to Ser Cortnay not so long ago.

His brothers were better, skilled in sword, and blows rained on his armor, front, back and side. His sword caught one under the left armpit, cut through armor, and blood poured out as he staggered away. The second he smashed in the face with his huge gauntlet covered left hand and the blow stunned the knight, who fell to the ground, hurt but not dead.

Then he felt something hit his back, penetrate armor and enter his flesh. A crossbow bolt, but it did not hurt at all, his senses were so dulled. Then a dozen more hit and bounced off of him. He turned to see his tormentors, all Dornishmen, men who had fought at his side, and now they were reloading.

"KILL HIM!" the bitch screamed as the four remaining Queensguard were dragging her towards the central keep and its open gate. Soon they were almost inside.

He could not reach her, knew it was too late, so he vented his wrath on the rest. Men died, legs and arms came off, heads rolled in the dirt, blow after blow hit him, some got through his steel, but he still stood. They kept trying to reach up and hit his well armored neck, aiming to cut off his head, and Yronwood shouted for them to do so, thinking this was the way to make him die. Then they threw ropes around him, tried to drag him down, but he just cut the ropes and used them to pull men close enough to kill them. They threw torches at him, tried to burn him with oil, but he killed the man carrying the barrel and it smashed open on hitting the ground and caught fire, burning three Dornishmen to death, their screams filling the air, the smell of burning flesh making many gag.

After more than twenty men died and a dozen more were gravelly wounded, the rest stood back, fear in every eye.

"He is not human!" Yronwood shouted in amazement and fear.

"For fuck's sake!" Rivers cursed. "Let him go before he kills you all!"

"No…never!" Yronwood said. He turned to his men. "We are thousands…he is but one man…beast…the monster who killed your prince! Killed our beloved Elia and her children. Who will have the honor?"

No one stepped forward.

And now Gregor laughed, the sound inhuman coming from his tortured vocal cords inside his helm. At least half a dozen ran away after that.

"DIE!" he screamed next and ten more fled.

"I will do it myself!" Yronwood said at last but as he tried to advance a half a dozen of his men dragged him away.

Gregor stood all alone now, a circle of wary men many paces away. "There is a horse," Rivers said, pointing to a large coal black horse nearby the main gates. "Take it…go."

"The bitch," Gregor said.

"She is not yours to kill."

"Kill."

"No…go, or I will tell my men to help the Dornish. We are too many, and soon you will die."

"Die…now…kill me."

"He wants to die," Strickland said. "I can't blame him. Go fall on your sword if that's want you want."

"Bitch…first."

Then something landed by his feet, stuck in the soft ground, a huge crossbow bolt, steel. He looked up, and on the battlements some Dornishmen had turned around a heavy crossbow like machine called a scorpion. Each bolt was six feet long and could easily go through his armor.

"Kill him!" Yronwood shouted up to them.

He could not fight this. He had to go…and kill the bitch another day. Men scattered as he ran to the horse, just as another bolt slammed into the ground where he had just been. The horse was big and strong, one of his six brothers' horses. As he rode through the gates another bolt missed his head by a hair and slammed into the castle wall.

Across the siege lines he rode, men standing and looking, but doing nothing. The guards at the northern wooden barrier on the Kingsroad tried to stop him but he rode straight on through and they jumped aside.

North he went, not knowing why…thought of turning around, letting them kill him anyway they could, ending his nothingness…and then he knew what to do. If one man could kill him in a fair fight it was his brother. But first he would get them to help him kill the bitch. He had heard Qyburn talking to her. The dragon queen was at Harrenhal. He would offer her his sword, help her defeat the bitch. Maybe Sandor was there as well. Soon it would be time to end their feud…after Cersei was dead.


	15. Chapter 15

**Game of Thrones Season 8 Chapter 15**

 **Storm's End – Cersei**

She did not realize how much she had depended on Qyburn until he was gone. The shock of his death almost sickened her, his body cut in two, blood and innards flying in every direction, as the mad man went berserk and tried to kill her next. More died, so many more. She saw the end from the inner great keep's second floor, looking out a window as Ser Gregor rode through the gates.

Down she came to confront the fools who had let him go. Her guards warned her it was dangerous and the scene gruesome but she had to reassert her power over these idiots.

Rivers was the first she saw across the bloody smoking courtyard, the stench in the air from the gutted and burnt bodies almost unbearable. "How dare you!?" she shouted at him as she tried to avoid the corpses on the ground, her guards close behind her. "Who gave you the authority to let him go?"

He gave her a weary look. "Your pet beast would have killed us all, Your Grace," Rivers answered. "You included."

"Agreed," said Strickland. "Look how many he killed. Better he was gone."

"We had him," Yronwood complained. "If you had closed the gates we could have run him down, killed him…eventually."

"How?" Rivers shot back. "Those bolts? Maybe. Better to let him go."

"Why aren't you chasing him?" Cersei asked them in a steely tone.

No one said a word and many men cast theirs eyes down and away. She would have called them cowards but she still needed them for the battles to come.

"He will be back," Cersei said to them all. "For me, for you, for all of us!"

Strickland shrugged. "Maybe. But he will have a hard time getting over these walls. The battle is done, Your Grace. The castle is yours. My men have done their share. Now we want the spoils."

"As do we," said Yronwood. "More Dornish died than his men."

"Do as you please with what you find," Cersei said. "But don't hurt anyone. And don't touch the treasure vault. That is mine."

"Your Grace, our men…" Rivers began but she cut him off.

"Will get their fair share of the rest, those who took part in the assault and lived. As for the coin, I need it to pay off the rest of my loans," she snapped at him. "Qyburn said….oh."

"He is dead, Your Grace," Yronwood needlessly reminded her. "I would be happy to serve as advisor in his stead."

She took a deep breath and then gave a short curt nod. "Very well, my lord. Take care of this mess." Among the bodies she recognized what was left of Qyburn. "Have Qyburn's body prepared for a funeral pyre. The rest do with as your customs demand. Then Lord Yronwood, come to my pavilion when he is ready."

They all dipped their heads to her as she turned without another word. Out the gates she went, with her guards following, their dead brother on a mule drawn cart with the injured one sitting bedside him, his helm off, his handsome face marred by a bloody askew nose and a massive purple bruise where Ser Gregor had punched him. The young knight who had killed Ser Cortnay and tried to defend her was lying there, on the ground, dead as well, and Cersei told them to leave him for his own people to take care of.

An hour later Yronwood came to her tent. She was sitting, nibbling on some food, mainly to settle the three cups of wine she already had, more so to steady her nerves than for the pleasure of the taste. Her mind raced over what to do, how to carry on, and she had come to very few conclusions.

"They are getting Qyburn ready, Your Grace," Yronwood told her.

"Sit. Let us talk first."

He did as she bid and a serving girl poured him some wine. "Leave us," Cersei commanded and the girl and her guards went outside.

"A terrible thing, what happened to your men," she began, knowing now what she needed to do, what she had always done, win people to her side.

"They knew the risks. We knew of Ser Gregor's reputation but…this was…unexpected."

"He is more monster than man now. We did try to warn you."

"Yes. Our arrogance cost us. But he is still alive. Our deal was…"

Her fury rose unexpectedly and she snapped at him. "Our deal was for me to give you his head. I said you could take it, anyway you could. You failed. Our deal still stands…does it not?"

He hesitated but a moment and then nodded. "Yes, of course. The terms will be abided to...by both sides, I trust."

She smiled. "They will."

"Good. And wherever he turns up we will kill him."

"Why not hire a professional?" she asked, calmer now that was out of the way. "Assassins from Braavos. They know many ways to kill."

"Assassins?" he said as if he had swallowed something distasteful. "We would prefer to do it ourselves. Dornish are no strangers to special ways to kill someone."

"Prince Oberyn tried that and died."

"His hubris was to blame for his death from what I have been told."

"True. He had Gregor and then he lost the chance and died. Yet he tried to poison Gregor and he still lived."

"From what I heard your man Qyburn was responsible for keeping him alive. Did he impart his secret on how he did that?"

"No."

"Did he have any assistants?"

"Some, but not here and not his equal, any of them."

"Good. Then we will do what is necessary to find him and kill him…for good. If not now, in the future, when the war is done."

"That brings us to the war," Cersei said. "I will need a new Hand. The position is yours."

"I am flattered, Your Grace, but for now I must refuse."

She did not like hearing no. "Why?"

"We have an accord, but my people still hate yours. Bad enough we are allies, if I become your Hand…they will think me weak or a traitor at worse. I am still consolidating my position as leader of Dorne. The Martells had many friends. This woman of Oberyn's left a foul taste in many mouths, but sill they loved him and his daughters, and his brother and mother when they ruled. And Oberyn still has other, younger daughters. Bastards all but that never mattered in Dorne. Already I hear rumors of some wanting to elevate the oldest Sarella to be our new leader."

"Kill her and her siblings," Cersei said as if it were so simple.

"Would that I knew where they were. Sarella has not been seen in Dorne for some years now, and rumors are rife that she is dead or in hiding in some Free City. When Oberyn died and then his woman, plans were already afoot to protect the other younglings, to hide them."

"I see. Well, that is all for the future. You have the strongest army, so I am sure you will prevail. When we defeat the dragon whore we will help you solidify your position."

"Thank you, Your Grace. That leads to the dragon…whore…as you call her. One of my captains has a plan to defeat her dragons."

"Tell me," she said, almost eagerly.

"In Dorne there is the legend of Aegon the First's sister Rhaeyns. When the Targaryens tried to overrun Dorne they met with much resistance and had to use their dragons to subdue us. Rhaeyns died when her dragon Meraxes was shot from the sky with a scorpion bolt, much like the one we used to try to kill Ser Gregor."

Cersei was not impressed. "We tried that already. The whore's dragon was barely scratched."

"By one bolt from one machine," he countered, as if he already knew this tale. "If we ring Storm's End with dozens of these machines we have a good chance of knocking the dragons from the sky."

Cersei immediately saw the wisdom of this. "Very well. Command the men to start building more."

One of her guards entered. "Your Grace, everyone has gathered for Lord Qyburn's funeral."

"Yes, it is time to say goodbye," she said and then stood and so did Yronwood. She looked at him, so tall and handsome, a true leader. "My lord, you are married, yes?"

The question caught him off guard. "I am, happily so. I have a son and two daughters."

She smiled wanly. "Good. You must bring them all to court when this business is finished."

"Of course, Your Grace."

Outside laid on a large pile of wood were the remains of Qyburn. He had come into her life unwanted, had served her well in so many ways, and now he was leaving in such horrible circumstances.

A septon from the castle said the right words and when done, the pyre was lit. As the flames and smoke rose high she could not help but think of those dragons, and what terrible things they could do. She looked around at all the armies and knew they had to get inside the fort…quickly, before daylight. The thick stone walls would protect them from the flames, the food they and the fort had would feed them…and maybe by chance they would bring down the whore's two beasts. Then she would unleash her armies to destroy what remained, return to King's Landing and then…then what?

She had no one to love, no children to raise, to follow her, no one who she could even call a friend any more. She had burnt her bridges with Jaime, of that she was certain. And Tyrion and the rest wanted her head. All the rest of her family was dead. No, she would have no more love in her life. She would defeat her enemies and go on…living day to day…until sometime in the future it would all end.

* * *

 **King's Landing – Tyrion**

The room was different. Maybe it was because the windows were gone and the place was a mess, with cracks in the walls and bits of masonry scattered everywhere, but also it felt different. The bed was still there, but there was not the warmth of the hearth nor the glow of candlelight as there had been the night he had killed his father and Shae. Or maybe he just felt it was different because of the trauma of that night, the lingering feelings of pain he still felt, betrayed by two people, one he loved, the other who should have loved him.

He had come here to see what was left, the room in a tower that was only slightly damaged. When Jaime had heard what he wanted to do he insisted on coming with him. Jaime was still a prisoner, of sorts, kept under guard in his room at night, and only allowed out if Tyrion was with him. With Bronn off serving as bodyguard to Jon Snow, Tyrion and Jaime found themselves in each other's company more often than not. When Tyrion told him after lunch his plans for the rest of the day, Jaime said it was not a good idea.

"Bad memories, little brother," he had said. Maybe he thinks I will be so overwhelmed with grief I would jump from the window, Tyrion thought. No, he was not ready for that yet, if ever.

"I must see it," Tyrion had replied. And so they were here now.

"We found her on the bed…his bed," Jaime said as Tyrion stared at the room, and Tyrion realized they had never discussed what had come after he had killed them. "As you left her. Cersei did not want to believe Father would have a…a…woman…"

"Whore. Say it. It was what she was."

"Sorry. Yes, a whore, in his bed. So she ordered us to remove her body and never speak on it again."

"What did you do with her?"

"Gave her to the Silent Sisters. I believe they burned her. Scattered her ashes…somewhere."

"Gods."

"Tyrion…I know you loved her. Sorry."

"I did. And then she betrayed me. As did Father."

"All you had to do was take the black."

"No…never. I was innocent. You knew it, he knew it, and now Cersei does as well. All too late to undo the damage. Cersei was too blind with her hatred of me to see how I could not have done it, would not have done it. Father knew the truth from the start and did not care what humiliations I went through because he saw it as a chance to win you back to his side. Even if I had taken the black he would never have stopped until I was dead. I killed his wife, your mother…"

"Our mother."

"Yes…she was, though I never knew her."

"You would have loved her."

Tyrion felt the pinpricks of tears forming behind his eyes and dug his uncut fingernails into the palm of his small right hand so he could feel some other kind of pain.

"I guess we shall never know. Come, enough reminiscing. We must see to organizing some kind of defense. If we are not going south in the near future Cersei may just do us a favor and come here to be slaughtered."

People were at work everywhere, cleaning, fixing, mending, preparing. Food was coming in from Harrenhal and hopefully from abroad soon enough. Meat was scarce but fish was still plentiful as the sea's bounty was still there to be caught. The Queen ordered all food to be property of the crown until a time when conditions improved. Guards were placed on the granary silos and stores of other food. Wages were paid in fish, grain, and other foodstuffs as the crown had no coin yet. People eagerly lined up to work as long as they got food at the beginning and end of each day.

They found Lord Edmure and Lord Manderly by the Mud Gate. Workers were busy fixing broken masonry and the thick wooden gates. Edmure was in a better mood as Varys had word from one of his spies at the Twins that Edmure's wife and son were well. He hope to get them out of there before the wrath of the North fell on that unfortunate place.

"A mess," Lord Manderly said, indicating the walls. "So many holes are in the walls an army could march right though them. The people say what the ice dragon did was bad but when your sister set off the wild fire the whole city shook and made many a building collapse and many new holes appear in the walls."

"We haven't the workers or stone to repair them properly," Edmure added. "I can see why your sister abandoned this place."

"Yes," said Jaime. "As should we."

"And go where, ser?" Lord Manderly asked. "It is the capital. If the Queen is to rule it must be from here."

"We should go south," Jaime said. "Before Cersei has time to take Storm's End and draw more allies to her side."

"The Reach is on our side," Tyrion reminded them. Just yesterday Lord Varys had received word that the Reach was in rebellion, its noble knights that had survived the earlier attacks forming a new force that easily drove the weak Lannister garrison out of Highgarden. "When they are ready they will march to Storm's End. We must join them at the same time or Cersei's forces will destroy us piecemeal."

"How many men will the Reach bring?" Edmure asked.

"More than us," Tyrion said. "But as yet the numbers are uncertain. Keep at it, my lords. The gates first, then the walls."

"It will take time," Manderly needlessly reminded him.

"Yes, it will, but we must start somewhere," said Tyrion. "Do what you can for now, my lords. Bit by bit we will restore this cesspool to its former glory. Good-day."

They dipped their heads to him, a good sign they had accepted his leadership. Jaime was still skeptical, saying so as they walked through the city towards the Dragonpit.

"They still hate us…well, maybe just me," Jaime said.

"No, both of us I am sure. Lannister is our name, tainted by association with our sister and father."

"My crimes have nothing to do with them."

"Save your confession for your trial."

"Which will be when?"

Tyrion stopped and looked up at his brother. "When the war is over."

"My chances?"

Tyrion sighed. It was a topic they had discussed before but Jaime never seemed to tire of it, which Tyrion understood as it concerned his life. "Give me time. Best to ask her for favors when we have won. Continue to prove yourself and we will have a better chance. The Wall perhaps, but you will still be alive."

"Not really. A cold home with rapists and murderers for friends and not a woman in sight. I will take exile."

"If she offers it. You did kill her…"

"Yes, yes. The whole realm knows." Then he sighed. "She can't let me live."

"No, I fear not." Tyrion knew this was a truth he felt would come to pass.

Jaime looked towards the walls. "I could easily leave in the night. Not every hole is guarded."

"You could. But where would you go?"

"South…to Cersei."

"Jaime…"

"Not to join her."

"But why?"

"To end it all."

Tyrion looked at him in shock. "Jaime…you couldn't."

"Not before. Now…maybe. She almost had Gregor kill me, you know. Then she sent that letter to the Starks, hoping they would do her dirty work for her. It is finished between us. Now I believe I could kill her. I suppose we will never know, will we?"

Tyrion thought and Jaime waited and then he knew it must be done. "They will blame me if you leave."

"Do you care?" Jaime asked.

"No…not if means an end to this war with less bloodshed."

"Then let me go."

Tyrion thought on it but one more brief moment. "Come. Bronn will know the best way to do this."

They found him and Jon Snow in the Dragonpit. Drogon and Rhaegal were chained up here, both still nursing various wounds from the battle with the undead. As Bronn leaned against a stone wall with a wineskin in hand Jon was off standing by his dragon, feeding it pieces of dried fish from his hand.

"Bloody fool," Bronn said. "Our great hero acting like an idiot. One wrong bite and he will lose a hand."

"Then he will be in fine company," Jaime said.

Bronn grunted. "So he will. How fair the Lannister boys today?"

"We have a plan," Tyrion said.

"Count me out," Bronn said and to their surprise he started to walk away.

"You haven't even heard the plan yet!" Tyrion said as he hurriedly waddled after him.

"Aye, and I don't want to hear it," Bronn shot back, his breath cloudy in the cold air. "Whatever it is, it's bound to be stupid and with a chance of me getting killed."

"Stupid, yes," Jaime said. "Dangerous to you, no. We just need you to help me find the best place to leave the city."

"You? Leave the city? What the fuck for?"

"To kill our sister," Jaime said, and now stated so plainly it sounded shocking to Tyrion.

"Bullshit," Bronn said with a smirk. "Never happen."

"Why not?" Jaime countered. "Only I can get close enough to her."

"Aye, maybe so, but if you still got any feelings at all for her, she will make you her bed mate again. And even if you do get close and kill her, if you got the guts, that monster Gregor Clegane will chop you in two."

"He can try."

"He can and he will kill you," Tyrion said, not so sure about this plan now.

"I must do it!" Jaime said.

"Do what?" Jon Snow asked, catching them unaware of his presence. If he knew his bloody Stark sense of honor would make him tell the Queen, Tyrion knew.

"These fools have got…," Bronn began but Tyrion cut him off.

"A plan for storming Storm's End," Tyrion said. "Bad idea, as Bronn just told us."

"Let me hear it," Jon said.

Tyron's mind raced and then he remembered a story from his youth. "The tunnel where Ser Davos smuggled in onions. Maybe it is unguarded."

Bronn gave him a shrewd look. "Aye, maybe so, or maybe not. Get a lot of good men killed finding out."

"The plan now is to terrorize her army with the dragons, hoping they will surrender," Jon said.

"Yes, a good plan," Jaime said with sarcasm dripping from every word. "Except the part where our sister will never surrender. She knows what awaits her."

"We don't need her to surrender," Jon continued. "Just her army."

"Those sellswords will turn tail first sign of a dragon," Bronn said with confidence. "The Lannister soldiers, too. Many of them have already seen what a dragon can do. Well, a few have anyways. The rest are ash."

"Maybe they will bend the knee," said Tyrion, shuddering at the memory of that dragon attack Bronn had just mentioned. "The Dornish, maybe not."

"Then we will starve them out," Jon said. "Even if it takes years."

"Yes, a better plan," Tyrion said with a look to Jaime. But Jaime was looking at the dragons.

"Have you been on one yet?" he asked his brother.

"What?" Tyrion said. "No...not yet."

"Aye, then it is time," Jon said. "The weather is clear so I was going to go up and see if I can find Arya and the other two fools on the Kingsroad."

"You want me to go…on a dragon?" Tyrion said in delight.

"Yes, come on. It's time."

"Mind how you go," Bronn said. "And don't fall off! I haven't got my castles or gold yet!"

As Tyrion looked back at them he could see Jamie and Bronn in discussion, maybe about the plan that was sounding more foolish the more he thought about it.

The dragon was lying there looking at them, and as Tyrion got closer his mind went back to the time in Meereen when he had freed Rhaegal and Viserion. He had never felt a terror like that in all his life, not even when awaiting execution. To die by a rope or headman's axe was one thing, but here be dragons.

"Not to worry," Jon said, noticing the look on his face no doubt. "Rhaegal is gentle."

"With you? For sure. What about with strangers?"

"Them as well. Come on." And with one swift move Jon picked him up and raised him to the dragon's back. "Just grab onto the spines and climb up."

He did so, the hard spines offering a place to hold onto, feeling the heat under him as he worked his way to a comfortable position. The dragon did not move at all as he settled himself. Jon soon joined him in front, after unchaining the dragon's left hind leg, and in mere moments after they were airborne.

To describe the exhilaration he felt in detail would take away from it, Tyrion would later say to those who asked how it felt. "Unlike anything in the world," he said to Bronn later. "Even better than sex."

"Nope, can't see it," Bronn replied. "And I have been on a dragon's back. You're just in love."

He was in love with the dragons. All his life he thought on them, dreamt of them, and here he was on the back of one at last.

Jon skillfully moved the dragon out over the smoky, smelly city and then south, across the still flowing Blackwater Rush, and then the Kingsroad, where it disappeared under the canopy of trees in the Kingswood's massive forest. Down below all was white and green.

Jon flew lower and Tyrion had to shout over the cold wind to make himself heard. "You will never find them under all those trees!"

Jon did not reply but kept going. Here and there they saw smoke rising but it was just single homes and small villages and finally at a larger one Jon decided to land, dropping down in the middle of the village square.

The shock of seeing the dragon sent many people fleeing into their small wooden homes. Jon and Tyrion climbed off the dragon and stood in the village square, which had a light coating of snow on top of frozen mud.

"That looks like an inn," Tyrion said, feeling hungry and thirsty. He was about to suggest going in when an old, grey bearded man came out, looking more drunk than sober, staring at them with watery, beady eyes.

"Is it a dragon, my lords?" he asked, his speech slurred.

"It is, my good man," said Tyrion wishing he were as drunk as this fellow.

"Gods, now I can die," he said.

"Not yet," Jon quickly said. "We are looking for three people. A girl and two big men. They came here…."

"A day ago, left this morning," the drunk said. "Big man…burnt face. Nasty temper."

"That's him," said Tyrion. "Clegane. Where did they go?"

"Don't know," he replied. "South…maybe. Them and their dog."

"Dog?" Jon said in surprise.

"He means Clegane, the Hound."

"How would he know that?" Jon asked and turned to the man. "What dog?"

"Big dog, grey…looked more like a wolf. Aye, that's it. The girl said it was a…was a…a..."

"Direwolf?" Jon asked.

"That's it, my lord."

"A direwolf?" Tyrion said with skepticism. "Why would a direwolf be down here?"

"Only one direwolf left," said Jon, puzzled. "Ghost…back in Winterfell." Tyrion knew he missed his beast, but Jon had left the castle on a dragon and there was no place for a direwolf on the back of a dragon. When they left Winterfell Sansa said she would keep him there as no one could control him well enough for the trip south.

"The rest are all dead?" Tyrion asked.

"Aye…well, no. Arya said she saw Nymeria when she came north. Maybe she found her again."

"Seems so." He turned back to the old drunk. "Well, thank you, my good man. Some coins for your troubles." Tyrion handed him three silver and the man dipped his head, thank them, and hurriedly went back inside the inn.

"You know, I am thirsty," Tyrion said, thinking of the warmth inside, the food and good ale and wine. Dragons he was in love with, but he needed food and drink as well as love.

"We have no time," Jon said, dashing Tyrion's hopes. "The day is getting on and I have to find them."

Tyrion looked south. The road was wider here, wide enough for Rhaegal to fly along the Kingsroad between the trees and just as the thought formed Jon spoke. "You know, we could fly right along the road."

"No," Tyrion said. "One false move and we will hit a tree."

"Rhaegal will not hit a tree," Jon insisted. "But to be safe we'll fly just above them."

"They will see us and hide from us. They have a purpose, and your sister seems not like one to shirk from such a task."

"She means to kill Cersei."

"I fear so…and the Hound wants to kill his brother."

"They will both die," Jon said in worry. "We must find them."

Jon was stubborn and Tyrion could not dissuade him from this task. Find them they did, twenty minutes later and as they flew in low they saw them, three people on horses, a pack mule, and a direwolf. Just standing there, looking at them, not trying to flee or hide at all.

Jon leaped off Rhaegal and marched right up to his sister who had come off her horse as well. "I am not going back," Arya Stark said before Jon could even open his mouth. Not even a hello or how are you and did you really kill the Night King from the girl.

"Just tell me why," Jon said.

She looked at Tyrion. "Did you tell them?"

"Only what you told me."

"For fuck's sake," the Hound growled as he and Gendry also got down from their horses. "Tell them and let's get on with it."

Arya sighed. "Cersei…she put a contract out on you and the Queen." As she spoke her direwolf stood by her side, glaring at them as if they were enemies.

"A contract?" Jon said in confusion.

"Fuck," Tyrion said, fearing the worst. "It's Braavos, yes?"

"Yes," said Arya. "Jaqen H'ghar came to White Harbor, told me I had to do it or die."

"Gods," Jon said, at least seeming to understand what it all meant.

"But I said no," Arya swiftly said. "He told me if I didn't do it we would all die, you, the Queen, me, Sansa, Bran, Gendry…everyone we love."

"Who is this man?" Tyrion asked. He had only heard bits and pieces of Arya's adventures.

"The one who trained me in Braavos," she answered.

"Why did he command you to do this?" Tyrion asked next. "Why not just do it himself with no warning?"

"It was not a warning," Arya said. "It is my punishment. Because I escaped from them, because I killed people without a name being named, and because I was using what they taught me for revenge. Mostly because I broke the rules."

"And now they demand payment," Jon said.

"Yes. But I also took out a contract," Arya swiftly told them. "On Cersei."

"Well, then not to worry," Tyrion said with a grin. "Soon the assassin will do our dirty work for us."

"She's the assassin," Gendry said, nodding to Arya.

"This gets more confusing by the minute," Jon said.

"I told him I would do it," said Arya. "I hoped to kill her before a month is out. That's how much time I have. But he said if I don't kill you and Daenerys in a month they will send assassins after us all, even if I kill Cersei first."

"But we can get Cersei to change her mind," Gendry said. "If she writes them to cancel the contract."

"She will never do that," Tyrion offered. "You are on a fool's errand."

"I must do something!" Arya said, her emotions finally getting the best of her. "They will kill everyone! It's all my fault."

"No one will kill us," Jon said. "Not with an army round us."

She shook her head. "You don't know them, what they are capable of. They will kill you both, and no one will even know how they did it. Cersei must cancel the contract."

"Cersei will listen to no one," Tyrion said.

"She will if I start cutting pieces off of her."

"Oh, what a brilliant plan," Tyrion said, every word dripping with sarcasm. "Let us say you actually get close to her. What next? She has seven huge men surrounding her. Including Ser Gregor. You will die."

"Not if I kill Gregor first," the Hound snapped back.

"A slim chance, my friend," Tyrion told him.

"We must do something," Gendry said.

"If only you had come to me first," Tyrion answered. He looked at Jon. "I have a better plan, but you must approve. That way the Queen will be less inclined to kill me."

That shook Jon. "Why would she kill you?"

"Because I am going to set my brother free."

Two hours later they were back at the village. The Hound, Arya, and Gendry had agreed with the plan, but insisted they escort Ser Jaime south. Tyrion approved, as it would make it easier for Jaime to get near enough to Storm's End.

Jon however, was very reluctant. "She will kill us both," he said to Tyrion as they ate an early dinner in the inn's common room. Except for the innkeeper, they had the place to themselves as the villagers were all outside, watching Rhaegal munch on salted pork from a barrel Tyrion had purchased with five gold pieces. An outrageous price, but the dragon needed fuel as well, and with winter here food would become scarcer.

"Just explain it all to her," Arya said. "Tell her it must be done."

"What if they kill Ser Jaime?" Gendry asked as he munched on some bread and cheese.

"She won't," Tyrion insisted. "I hope."

They said their goodbyes, with Jon promising to come back with Jaime by morning. Tyrion looked at them all as they stood outside the inn. "Jaime will try to lead, take over. He means nothing by it, it's just in his nature, that's all. Don't let him. Arya, you are in command."

"I know." She looked at her two companions. "So do they."

The Hound snorted. "Little miss big mouth. You lead us into trouble that will be the end of your first command."

"Trust no one," Jon said next. "Especially not Ser Jaime."

"He betrays us, he dies," Arya said.

"He won't," Tyrion said. This time he didn't say 'I hope' but felt it nonetheless. He knew not what Jaime would do when he met Cersei again. "If this works, the war will be over. Good luck to you."

An hour later he and Jon were back in King's Landing, where the sun was setting and Bronn was waiting in the Dragonpit. "That was a long fucking ride," he almost shouted at them. He looked cold and tired. "I was about to go get her royalness to go look for you on the other one."

"We had things to take care of," Tyrion said. "I will explain it all later."

"Can I go?" Bronn asked.

"No, wait for Jon."

Bronn bitched some more but waited for them.

"Find Jaime, explain it all," Jon told him in a low voice after he chained up Rhaegal again. "We leave at first light….if she lets us."

"If she…gods, man, why?"

"Because if I don't tell her she will be mad and you know what that's like. Besides I…I…"

"Yes, yes, you love her, will marry her, and someday have children with her."

"What? Oh…yes…someday. So you understand?"

"Fine, get on with it if you must."

Tyrion found Jaime in his quarters, where two guards were on his door. He explained it all.

"Good," Jaime said, seemingly worried now it had been decided. "But how do I get out of the city?"

"Not to worry. The Queen is being told now. If she approves you fly out with Snow."

"If she approves? Why tell her at all?"

"His idea…not mine."

A short time later Tyrion was summoned to see her. She was alone, sitting to dinner in her rooms, with Unsullied outside the door and two large Dothraki inside.

"Sit," she commanded. He did so and poured himself some wine. She stared at him as he did it, her eyes boring into him. "Jon has told me of the assassins. And of your plan."

"Yes, so he said he would."

"Better if you had snuck him out of the city."

"My original plan but you know how terribly honorable Jon is. Could not do it without you knowing."

"Yes, he is not like us. Well, it is done, so here we are."

"I am not sure if that is an approval or not."

"I haven't decided yet," she replied. "Convince me that this is not madness."

"I am not sure it isn't. But it seems worth a try."

"He may betray you. Side with her."

"If so all she will get is a one handed swordsman," Tyrion said. "If not, we can end this conflict with one stroke."

"I thought he loved her?"

"Not anymore. Not since she threatened him with Ser Gregor, not since the letter she sent to Winterfell."

"I see. And what of Ser Gregor? You say he never leaves her side. Jaime will die."

"He knows this…I think he is ready for it."

"Gods."

"He will die anyway, will he not?"

She hesitated and then spoke. "That hasn't been decided yet."

"Come, let us end these games, Your Grace. How can you rule if the man who killed your father is allowed to live?"

She sighed. "I cannot let him live. Sorry."

"There. That is done with. So now we give him one more chance to prove himself. And if he survives this, what then?"

"If he does it and lives and this ends the war…he can take the black. I swear it on the life of my…my…"

"Unborn child?"

She got mad. "Bloody hell. Who told you? Sam?"

"No…an educated guess, which you just confirmed. And you are getting a little stout around the waist."

"I suppose I am."

"Wait…Sam Tarly? You told him?" Tyrion asked in surprise.

"I had to. He is our healer."

"Thought he hated you."

"I am sure he still does but he did his duty. Now, as for my…condition…no one must know until we are wed."

"Well, then congratulations are in order."

"Thank you."

"And Jaime?"

"The black."

"He does not want it. Exile seems more fitting."

"Exile? Across the sea?"

"Yes."

"Then tell him if he does it, and survives, to take the first ship he can and leave my realm. And if he ever comes back, I will execute him."

"Fair enough." He gulped his wine and was about to leave when Varys came in, a raven scroll in hand. "Bad news?" Tyrion asked, seeing the look on his face.

"Yes. Storm's End has fallen to your sister's forces."

"Who told you this?" the Queen demanded.

"The lord in command at Bronzegate. He is Lord Ralph Buckler. He has no love for your family, You Grace, and he was always loyal to Robert."

"And now he works for you?" she asked in surprise. "Maybe he loves my family now."

"Well, no, it's just that he hates Cersei because she had a hand in killing Robert. 'Better a Targaryen than her', he said."

"No matter, as long as he bends the knee," she said. "Bronzegate? I am not familiar with it."

Tyrion answered. "It is a small castle just to the north of Storm's End, with many farms and a few small towns nearby."

"Yes," said Varys. "I asked the lord to send some men to keep an eye on the siege. They saw many men carrying torches marching through the main gates. How it fell we do not know as it happened at night. When day came the Lannister flag was flying from the fort. These eyes also report a strange sight. After the fort's fall a massive man on horseback, possibly Ser Gregor Clegane, was seeing riding from the castle and through the siege lines, heading north."

"Heading north? On the Kingsroad?" Tyrion asked. "Away from Cersei?"

"It seems so."

"Gods, when was this?"

"More than two days past, my lord."

"He could already be there."

"Where?" the Queen asked.

"Where his brother is."

* * *

 **The Kingsroad – Arya**

The sun was shining when they awoke in the inn in the roadside village. Arya stood by the window of their room, looking outside through the slightly ajar shutters. Gendry's gentle snoring from the bed was the only sound in the room. She looked to the hearth, saw some glowing embers and added a few sticks of wood. Nymeria was on the floor, gnawing on some bones.

She could not believe it when they found her and now she was hers again…well, mostly. Nymeria would run off and chase any animals they saw and she let her go so she would not think too much on eating the horses and mule. On the road Arya had awaken one night and sensed the taste of blood in her mouth but she had not bit her tongue or inside her cheeks. It was Nymeria out there hunting…and Arya had connected with him.

It was not the first time she had felt this. When still a girl and Nymeria a pup she used to have dreams of her that felt so real. Bran had explained it all to her back at Winterfell. "You're a warg, same as me. Can you do it with people?"

"Never tried. Have you?"

"Yes…with Hodor…I had to keep him quiet once. Another time I used him to kill a man trying to hurt us."

"What do you mean 'used him'?"

"I entered his mind. Then I could control his body, make him do things. He didn't like it, so I only did it when necessary."

Lord Reed said not every warg could do this. "Bran can because of who is and who he will be."

"Can I do it?" Arya asked. But they did not know and she never had a chance to try.

Now she looked down at Nymeria on the floor, stared into her eyes, and then…she gasped, felt herself inside the direwolf, looking at her herself through Nymeria's eyes. She broke the contact and Nymeria only looked at her in a curious way. That was enough for today.

"Stay," she said and then she quietly made her way down to the common room.

"Man still abed?" the Hound asked from where he sat eating bread and meat with a cup of ale beside his plate.

"Yes," she said as she sat. The innkeeper saw her and she asked him for the same as the Hound had. Then she had another desire. "Any eggs?"

"A few, my lady."

"Fried eggs, please."

He nodded and shouted orders to someone in the kitchen. The room was empty this time of day. "Sleep well?" she asked as she waited for her food.

"Well as can be expected." He was not in a good mood and she knew why.

"Look, Tyrion was right. He…"

"Knows shit," the Hound answered.

"Gregor will kill you"

"Maybe. He definitely will kill a one handed idiot. Waste of time."

"We are heading there anyways. Just half a day we lost."

"Maybe we should just tell Snow to fly him there, drop him off, and let the bitch decide what to do with her brother."

"Maybe… but then you won't get a chance to kill Gregor."

"There will always be another day for that," he replied. "If Jaime fails you still have to get Cersei to end the contract."

"I know," she said, feeling depressed about the whole thing. She had to get close to Cersei and the only one she would let close to her was her brother…maybe.

Then the idea came and she said it aloud before she could stop herself. "We could just kill Jaime and I could take his face."

"Don't be stupid," he snapped at her. "You kill him Tyrion will never forgive you. Or forget about it. Those Lannisters got this long memory about those who wronged them. And you think you could fool Cersei?"

"I fooled all those Freys," she countered.

"Ha, fool Freys they are. Cersei is a different kettle of fish. She and Jaime are twins and lovers. She knows all his manners, his moves, the way he walks and talks, and all of their history together. Think you can pretend to be him with her?"

"Maybe not," Arya admitted. Her food came and she thanked the innkeeper, gave him some coins, and started to eat.

The Hound finished before her and stood. "Best wake your man. Snow will be back soon, with Ser Jaime. Then we have a lot of riding to do. I'll go look to the horses."

Arya had just finished her breakfast and was about to go get Nymeria and wake Gendry when she heard the noise. A kind of shout, then a scream, and then the sound of running feet. Then she heard the Hound.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" he shouted.

Out the door she went, the innkeeper and his cook not far behind her, and they all got a nasty shock.

On a large black horse in the middle of the square was a massive man in black armor with silver trims. She had not seen Gregor Clegane since Lord Tywin had given him the command of Harrenhal but she knew it could only be him. No one was as large as this man in the whole kingdom.

The Hound was on foot before Gregor's horse, one hand on his sword hilt. "Well?" the Hound said to his brother.

A sound came from inside the helmet. "What the fuck was that?" the Hound asked. "They take your voice with your balls?"

A loud growl came from Gregor and a hand reached up and flung his helmet off to the snowy ground below. Behind her the innkeeper and his cook gasped and ran back inside. Gregor was a nasty sight to behold, his face scarred and discolored in places, his skin pale and almost rotten looking. He looked like he had been in a terrible battle. Gregor's armor was dented in places, the painting chipped to show the steel underneath, and Arya saw something sticking out of his back. It looked like a crossbow bolt, in a place where he probably could not reach and pull it free. How he was still alive she could not understand.

"Bitch…bitch," Gregor said, his voice a croak. "Tried to kill me."

"Fuck me," said the Hound and he spat in the snow. "So your little whore queen wants you dead? Good. So do I." He pulled his sword out. "Come on! It's time to end this!"

"Later," said Gregor. "Kill bitch…first. Help you."

"Gods, he wants to join us," Arya said.

"No fucking way," the Hound said. "He'll kill us in our beds."

"No," Gregor said. "Bitch die…then we fight."

But the Hound was having nothing of it. He charged his brother, and in one swing of his sword killed the horse he was on, the sword almost severing the head, reminding Arya of what Gregor had done to his own horse back in King's Landing so long ago. Down came horse and rider, the horse crying out in pain, its hot blood spurting on the snow, Gregor falling in a heap of clattering armor.

The Hound was on him in a flash, his sword raining blows on him, trying to reach his bare head, but Gregor was no fool and protected his head with his thick arms as he tried to get up. He got to his knees and the Hound kicked him in the face, but Gregor took the blow and started to rise.

"Die you monster!" the Hound yelled as his sword swung for the neck, was almost there…but a steel covered hand grasped the sword blade, and then the other fist swung up into the Hound's unprotected balls. He gasped, cried out, and fell to the snow, in agony.

"Fuck!" Arya shouted. I can't let him die, Sansa will never forgive me. She pulled out Needle and charged.

Gregor was on his feet now, towering over his brother, the Hound's sword in his hands. "So…we end it," Gregor said and then he growled in pain as Needle slid into the back of his right knee behind the joint where there was a space between the armor.

She pulled the blade out and was looking for another spot to stab him when he backhanded her and all she saw was stars. Through the air Arya went, flying ten feet away at least, her head throbbing, and blackness coming into her eyes. She fought it off, fought to stay awake, as she tasted real blood in her mouth.

"Bitch!" the beast growled. "Stay out of it!"

She saw him now, with sword raised, the Hound struggling to get to his feet, his face in agony, the sword about to come down…and she knew what she had to do.

Arya closed her eyes and reached out…and she was there, in that ravaged mind, and the contact was almost like touching fire. All she felt was his pain, a deep throbbing in his skull, something there, driving him mad all these years. She could see through his eyes, see the Hound getting to his knees, and then Gregor kicked him in the face, a harsh blow Arya tried but could not stop. The Hound went backwards, blood spurting from his nose, landing in the snow far away.

"Get out!" Gregor shouted to her in her mind…or was it aloud? Now she felt him spin, tried to stop him, could not, the man's will was so great, and later she knew it was his years of fighting his madness which helped him stop her taking over completely. And her lack of experience.

Now through his eyes she saw him coming for her and she broke the contact, struggled to her feet, started to run.

Then with a flash Nymeria was past her, leaping at the monster, trying to rip its throat out, but Gregor brushed aside the great direwolf with one sweep of his huge right arm, sending Nymeria flying through the snow. He still had the Hound's sword and now he raised it towards Nymeria.

"NOOOO!" Arya shouted and she ran back into the fray, with both her dagger and Needle now in hand. She ducked under his clumsy swing and got in two more jabs at her target, hitting flesh once and armor as well.

As she spun back to attack again she realized she was too close to him and a massive fist came out and hit her right shoulder, sending her flying through the air again. Bones cracked, pain entered her mind, and she screamed.

"Little bitch!" Gregor shouted. "Die!"

The sword was raised above her, about to come down, end it all, when another blurred figure leaped over her and she heard a sickening crunch. She looked up and Gregor had no more face. It was all squashed, pushed in, nose and teeth shattered, eyes dripping blood.

"Get away from my wife!" Gendry shouted at the beast. He was shirtless and barefoot, only wearing his breeches, and in his hands was his huge war hammer, the end now covered in blood, Gregor's blood.

The monster tottered and then fell to his knees, stunned, unable to move, as Arya scrambled back away as best she could. Gendry raised his hammer for another blow, but two big hands stopped him, grabbed the hammer and pulled it away.

"No," the Hound said. "He's mine to kill."

As Gendry ran to her side, the Hound approached his brother, still on his knees, almost a whimpering sound coming from his shattered face. The Hound could barely walk, and his face dripped blood.

"I always thought I was the ugly one in the family," the Hound said, his words filled with pain. "Now I can see I was wrong."

A sound came from the shattered face, words, and Arya thought she heard him say, 'do it', but she could have been wrong.

The Hound did it, all the years of pain and anger in one blow, swinging the hammer hard and striking true. Half of Gregor's head came away, blood and brains flew, and as he fell to the snow dead, Arya knew he had found peace from his inner pain at last.

Her pain was still very real and as Gendry tried to help her up she cried out in agony. "My shoulder…it's broken."

The villagers had all been watching and now came out to help them. "Is there a maester?" Gendry shouted.

"No," said the innkeeper. "But we have a healer."

She was summoned, an old woman, and they helped them back to the inn. Arya was placed on a table, the Hound in a chair, and the old healer got to work. Nymeria was limping a bit on one leg but was otherwise fine.

"Who was he? The dead man?" the innkeeper asked Gendry.

Gendry nodded to the Hound. "His brother, Ser Gregor Clegane."

"Gods, the Mountain," said the innkeeper. "We heard he can't be killed."

"You heard wrong," the Hound said as someone wiped the blood from his face.

"Your nose is broken," said the healer. She reached out and with a quick jerk she set his nose with a sharp cracking sound. He cursed her roundly and then thanked her when done shouting. "Where else does it hurt?" she asked as she wrapped a linen bandage round his nose and head.

"A place you can do nothing for," he said through gritted teeth.

"You'll live," the healer said. Then she looked at Arya, felt her face and shoulder as Arya bit her tongue so she wouldn't scream. "Your face will be bruised, sore for a while. Shoulder is broken, not badly though. Three weeks rest should be fine, after I bind it tight. This will hurt. Give her some rum or wine."

The innkeeper got some rough red wine, and Arya eagerly gulped it, hoping to dull the pain. Gendry was dressed by now, and stood by her side and held her hand as the bones were set and wrapped tight.

Then came more screams and shouts from outside. "Gods," said the Hound. "He best be dead."

A short time later Jon, Tyrion and Ser Jaime came into the inn. "Is that who I think it is out there?" asked Ser Jaime.

"Aye," said the Hound. "You want to be next?"

"You don't look in shape to even kill me," said Tyrion.

"Want to find out?"

Tyrion laughed. "Well, I can see someone is in a good mood. For once."

Jon had rushed to her side. "What happened?"

"We fought…he died," she said, her words slurred.

They told the story and when done Tyrion and Jaime were in shocked. "He said Cersei tried to kill him?" Jaime asked. "I don't believe it."

"It's true," Arya said, sitting in a chair now, still in pain, but less, the villagers all around them listening to the stories. "That's what he said."

"Aye," said the Hound. "He's got a crossbow bolt in his back. Didn't get there by itself."

"Well, he is dead," Jon said. "One less thing to worry about." He looked at the Hound. "What do you want us to do with his body?"

"Your dragon outside?"

"Yes."

"Then burn him."

A short time later it was done, the dead horse as well, but the Hound didn't watch it, and Arya was not ready to walk yet, so they stayed inside and rested. As they waited the Hound spoke.

"Thank you," he said. "For helping me. I won't forget it."

"He was sick," Arya replied. "I think all his life he was in pain."

"Maybe so. He always had headaches. No excuse for hurting those he was supposed to love."

"I suppose not." She thought to explain what she felt when in his head but decided to let it remain her secret.

The rest soon came back, along with most of the village. "Now we must make new plans," Tyrion said as they sat together afterwards, a noisy party going on around them, the villagers acting as if they had won some great victory.

"Arya can't go south," Gendry said right away as he fed Nymeria some meat where she sat on the floor by their side.

"Not for a while," Arya agreed, wincing as her shoulder throbbed. She had three cups of wine already and her head was starting to spin.

"I'm done too," said the Hound. "I'm heading north."

Arya gave him a knowing look which he gave a slight nod to.

"Well," said Tyrion. "I suppose we could just fly Jaime there."

"A better plan," said Jon. "Faster and easier."

"Close to there," said Jaime. "They see a dragon they know I am working for her enemies."

"Bronzegate at least then," said Tyrion. "Varys has friends there. Jaime can get a horse and ride to Storm's End. Which has fallen, by the way."

"How?" the Hound asked.

"We don't know, only that her army marched inside." Jon said. "Armies, I should say. The Dornish and the Golden Company."

"One lot are mercenaries," Jaime said. "The other hates all things Lannister."

"You know, I can see it now," said Tyrion. "Cersei needed the Dornish. And I bet part of their price was Gregor's head."

"But the fool's couldn't kill him," said Jaime. He looked at those who had killed him. "How did you do it?"

"Luck," said Gendry.

"Lots of luck," Arya added.

"Bullshit," said the Hound. "They couldn't kill him because they valued their life more than seeing him dead. They were weak and hesitated. Not me. Not us."

"We still almost died," Arya said.

"Aye," the big man replied.

"Whatever the case, it is done," said Tyrion. "And now to the next stage."

"When do you leave?" Gendry asked.

"Soon as Rhaegal is rested," Jon told them.

An hour later they were ready. "Just remember, you have to get her to write the letter to Braavos before she dies," Arya told Jaime.

"I understand."

Jon was next. "And you don't be a fool," Arya admonished her brother. "Drop him off and come back."

He smiled. "Aye, little sister." Then he ruffled her hair like he used to do and that made Arya feel better.

She managed to get to her feet and walk outside with Gendry's help. On the ground was a large smoking pile of all that remained of Ser Gregor and his horse, blackened bones mixed in with bits of armor.

The Hound stared at it and sighed. "It's over at last. Now I can rest."

"Yes," Tyrion said. "Maybe we all can rest soon enough."

He then went off with his brother, to talk in private and when done, Jon and Jaime got on the dragon and after last good-byes they were soon in the sky heading south.

"What did you tell him?" she asked Tyrion.

"To do what he must," Tyrion said. "And that he is free to go where he wishes when the deed is done. If he survives. The Queen has agreed so, sorry, you will not get revenge on my brother."

"Did he do it? Push Bran?"

There was a slight hesitation and then he spoke. "Yes. Bran knows, has remembered, and he has forgiven Jaime."

Arya thought she would be angry but she had known this truth for a long time now and hearing it confirmed did not change much. But she knew one thing. "I never will forgive him. If he comes back to Westeros, he dies."

"So said the Queen," Tyrion replied and then he sighed. "Whatever happens, I fear I shall never see him again."

* * *

 _Thanks for your patience with the delays with this story. For those who have come this far, there is one, possibly two more chapters to go, and I am hoping to get them done sooner than later_.


	16. Chapter 16

**Game of Thrones Season 8 Chapter 16**

 **Storm's End – Jaime**

The air grew warmer as they flew south along the Kingsroad, high above it, and Jaime Lannister imagined they must look like a bird from down below. The height didn't scare him, or the fact that he was on a dragon. No, what scared him, truly sent shivers down his back, was the growing desire to kill the only person he had ever truly loved in this cruel world.

She had abandoned him, left him to the wolves, of the Northern kind. He knew they hated him because he was a Lannister, but it was more than that. It all came back to that rash decision to push the boy, to save her from her drunken lout of a husband. Afterwards she said she could have scared the boy into silence, but at the time he had done it her eyes were pleading with him…push the boy. And so he had.

"What do I tell them?" Tyrion asked before Jaime took off on the dragon with Snow. "About Winterfell. About Bran."

"The boy already knows the truth," Jaime had replied.

"Yes, but…he still denies it."

"Tell them what I did. I won't be coming back so it matters not. By your confession of my guilt maybe you will win some friends."

"Maybe, but doubtful. They will still hate me in lieu of you and Cersei."

"Yes, their wounded Northern pride must have a scapegoat to blame for all their ills."

"In this case I believe they are right," Tyrion had said.

"I did it all for her, you must know."

"I do. Jaime…can you do it?"

"I…we will see."

Tyrion nodded, looked like he was about to break down. "Make sure it is only her that dies…not you as well."

"I will do my best."

"Then I guess this is goodbye…maybe forever."

Jaime grinned, tried to pass it off as nothing at all. "The gods would not be so cruel as to not let us see each other again."

"The gods were never on my side."

"Have faith, little brother. Look for me in Pentos or…one of the other ones."

And before Tyrion could get all emotional on him he gave him a quick goodbye and went to the dragon. When airborne he looked back, saw Tyrion standing next to the Stark girl, and then he turned forward to what lay ahead.

Snow was mostly silent as they flew and Jaime was glad, for he had no desire to talk to him. They were not friends and never would be, with too much bad blood on both sides to ever heal the wound. Jaime had his sword and a dagger, could have killed Snow easily enough, changed the fortune of war for his family perhaps, but then he remembered he had no family anymore and besides, he was on a dragon only Snow could control and if he stabbed him no doubt the dragon would roast Jaime alive. He had seen that well enough during the wagon train attack and after that he finally understood the Hound's great fear of fire.

The great hero Snow was still pretending he was what he wasn't, hiding his secrets from the world, secrets Tyrion had told him. Snow was not a Snow, had dragon blood, half at least, which any fool who knew anything about dragons could easily surmise. In his cups one night in Winterfell Tyrion had blurted it all out, felt bad about it, and then when pressed had told Jaime the whole story, which Jaime had promised to keep to himself. He had no love for the Targaryen girl but Tyrion had hitched his star to her and so he would not spoil his brother's chance of being happy for once. Snow's other secret was easy to guess as well. He was in love with the Queen, she with him, and anyone who saw them together for mere moments could see that plain as day. He at first thought to tell Manderly and Glover and the rest, to watch the Northerners squirm as they debated whether to support Daenerys, but he knew they would never believe him.

Bronzegate was not far as the dragon flew from the small village they had left. In less than an hour by Jaime's reckoning they were there. The castle was located in some open land east of the Kingsroad. It was square shaped, had high walls, but was small. Three or four of them could fit into Winterfell and the whole castle would hardly make a gatehouse at Harrenhal. Around it they could see three nearby villages and farmers' fields separated by fences all laid in in a quilted pattern, now mostly covered with snow, with no crops in the fields.

Snow brought the dragon in for a landing by the main gate of the castle. A short drawbridge across a narrow moat was down and people were coming and going but now all activity stopped as they saw the dragon. After a brief moment there was a gasp or two, one scream, and everyone then fled inside, the drawbridge went up, and the gates closed.

"Idiots," Jaime said as he climbed down. "As if that would stop a dragon."

"Mind what you say," Snow admonished him. ""Or they will never help you."

"And mind how you speak to me," Jaime shot back. "I am off to win the war for you, if you haven't forgotten."

"That is yet to be seen," Snow answered.

Jaime knew they didn't trust him, and he wouldn't have either if their roles were reversed. "Well, no matter what happens, I am sure I will be dead before long, and that will make you happy at least."

Before Snow could reply the gates opened and the drawbridge went down again. A middle-aged man came out, on foot. He was dressed in fine clothing, and was not armored or armed. He was red of hair, going slightly bald, and when he got close they saw he had blue eyes, a bit watery, a red plug nose, and a short trimmed beard. On his clothing was embroidered a blue shield with three brass buckles, the sigil of House Buckler.

"My lords," he said with a dip of his head, coming close, but not too close, his watery eyes with a hint of fear of the dragon in them. "Lord Ralph Buckler, at your service."

"I am Jon Snow and this is…"

"Ser Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer," Buckler replied, his friendly tone gone. "He is well known, my lord. As a man without honor."

Snow seemed about to protest but Jaime cut him off. "Yes, my reputation precedes me everywhere I go. If I had two good hands and time I would gut you for that. Alas, I have neither. But I do have a dragon."

The fearful look was stronger now, and Buckler took a step back, almost tripping over his own feet. "I have come out to greet you in good faith," he protested.

"Not to worry, my lord," Snow said. "I control the dragon, not him. Now if we are done with the insults let us get to business."

"How may I be of service?"

"Ser Jaime is going south and needs a horse and food for the trip."

Buckler looked from Snow to Jaime and back again. "You have a dragon, my lord. Would it not be easier to fly him to his destination?"

"Aye, but a dragon will be noticed. He is going south to Storm's End. To talk to his sister, to end the war. If Cersei sees him arrive on a dragon she will not trust him at all."

Buckler spat on the ground. "That for her, the murderess whore."

Jaime felt his hackles rising, wanting nothing more than to hit this fool. Snow quickly spoke on. "Can you help us? Lord Varys said we could trust you."

"For you, my lord, yes, I will help. Your reputation precedes you as well. Folk have heard how you stopped the undead horde. I didn't believe it at first, that such things exist, but more than one honest man has said it is true, so I must. And Lord Varys wrote with the news as well."

"Yes, he is such an honest man," Jaime quipped.

"More honor than some, he has," Buckler replied.

"Enough," Snow said sharply. "Time is short. Ser Jaime will leave as soon as possible. And I must return north."

"Of course, my lord. And please convey my pledge of loyalty to our new Queen as well."

"I will."

Buckler looked at the dragon. "I fear to take it inside, my lord."

"Not to worry, Rhaegal will stay here. Just make sure no one goes near him."

"Very well. Come."

As they walked to the castle, Snow spoke to Buckler. "What news of Storm's End, my lord?"

"I sent word to Lord Varys of its fall."

"Yes, we got that news. Anything else?"

"No…except some of my men believe they saw Ser Gregor Clegane riding north from there."

"He's dead," Jaime said.

Buckler stopped. "Dead? How?" he asked in an incredulous tone.

"His brother killed him," Snow replied. "In a village on the Kingsroad. We just came from there."

As they continued to walk inside Snow told the man the story. Jaime noticed many people stopped in their tracks, looking at them intently. Buckler noticed too, scowled at them, and they got back to their duties.

A horse was selected, a fine beast, and Snow promised the Queen would pay for it. Jaime was about to say a Lannister always pays his own debts but decided the new Queen could do it just as well. Besides, one way or another he would not be around to pay the man.

A sack of food, a skin of water, and a skin of ale were strapped to the horse. As they stood outside the gates, Snow asked Buckler how far it was to Storm's End.

"A day and night of hard riding should get him there. Two days if he rests up."

"Thank you for your service," Snow said, and Buckler dipped his head, wished them well, and went back inside.

"So I guess this is goodbye," Jaime said. "I don't expect any hugs or kisses or even a handshake."

"Good. You will get none of such from me."

Jaime just turned and walked away towards the horse and then Snow spoke again. "I know you pushed Bran."

He climbed up on the horse and looked down on Snow. "You've had many a chance to kill me. It is a bit late in the day for all this now."

"The Queen made a promise I shall keep. But If I ever see you again, I will kill you."

Jaime had a thousand quips on his tongue but he was too tired of it all. He turned the horse around without a word, trotted to the Kingsroad, and headed south, happy to be on the way to the end of the journey.

It took him two days to reach the outer siege lines. The castle he saw far in the distance and more riding brought him closer. As he neared some wooden barriers across the road many men came from out of the nearby brush. All had the sigil of a sun and spear on their surcoats, men of Dorne, all of the dark desert dwelling kind, looking like they had stood in the sun for hundreds of years, and now they stood shivering in the cold.

"Get down," one said, brandishing a spear. He looked older, was perhaps in command here.

"Gods," said another as Jaime climbed down. "It's him. The Kingslayer."

The one in charge looked skeptical. "Are you sure?"

"He's sure," Jaime said.

"I wasn't talking to you," the leader said and then he looked to his man.

"I'm sure," his man said. "I was with Prince Oberyn's party in King's Landing when he died. This is Ser Jaime Lannister."

The leader still looked skeptical. "We'll see. Hand over the weapons."

Jaime undid his sword belt and handed it over, dagger and sword still in their sheaths. "I wish to see my sister."

"Come on," the leader said. "If anyone knows you are who you say you are it's her."

Five men and the leader escorted him to the castle gates, his horse left behind with the roadblock. It took some time to reach the castle on foot. Jaime saw only work parties, no armed men outside. They were cutting wood and gathering water from nearby streams, hauling everything to the castle. Preparing for a long siege, he knew.

"Readying for a battle?" he asked. "A waste of time. Her dragons will lay waste to this place and all of you. I know. I've seen them at work.'

"Keep walking," said the leader from behind him.

As they got closer he looked up to the battlements, which were very high. He could see some faces looking down, and saw some weapons pointing out, large scorpions, like the one Bronn had used in the wagon train attack.

The drawbridge over the wide moat was down and the gates opened to let men moving wood and water go in and out. Waiting for him was a man of higher rank, a knight by the look of him. The leader spoke to him and Jaime and the rest waited as this man went inside. A short time later a large tall blond haired man of Dorne came out. Jaime recognized him but the name escaped him.

"Lord…?"

"Yronwood," the man said. "Lord Anders Yronwood. We have met before Ser Jaime. At your sister's wedding to King Robert."

"A long time ago, my lord."

"Yes. And much has happened since."

"I wish to see her."

"I have sent word to her. While we wait you might as well tell me why you are here."

"I will speak only to Cersei."

"I am her chief advisor now."

"I thought that was Qyburn. Has Cersei had his head off?"

"No…Ser Gregor cut him in two. We burned what was left of him."

"Gods."

"Yes…quite so."

"She gave you permission to kill him? For your revenge?"

"Yes, though it did not go as planned. A gruesome battle and the beast got away. Killed over twenty of my men, plus Qyburn, a knight of the castle, and one of your sister's Queensguards. Another one was badly injured. But we'll find him one day, and end his tyranny."

"No, you won't," Jaime said.

"We will, I assure you."

"No, you won't, because he is already dead."

Yronwood and all the other Dornish stared at him. "Dead?" one man said in surprise.

"Yes, killed by his own brother almost three days ago, in a small village north of Bronzegate."

"How did he kill him?" Yronwood asked.

"With a hammer, a large war hammer. Took half his head off," Jaime told them.

"A wish to see his body," Yronwood demanded.

"Well, it's a little too late for that. We burnt his body."

"How do we know he is really dead?" someone asked.

"Because I said he was," Jaime snapped. "Look, I care not. He is dead, believe me or not, it matters little to me. After twenty years of searching for him maybe you will finally accept the truth of this."

Yronwood frowned, was uncertain, but seemingly wanted to believe him. "Were there other witnesses?"

"Yes, Jon Snow, Arya Stark, her husband the blacksmith, and a whole village of people. Oh, and me and my brother Tyrion. We didn't see the battle but we saw him…dead."

"Fair enough," Yronwood said and then he seemed to sigh. "Our prince and his sister and her children may finally rest in peace."

"So will many more," Jaime replied. "Now…can I enter the castle?"

"Why are you here?" Yronwood demanded again.

"To offer peace terms."

"From who?"

"Daenerys Targaryen, that's who." Jaime pulled a small scroll from his pocket, sealed in black wax with the three headed dragon sigil stamped in it.

It had been Tyrion's idea of course. Before they left King's Landing they had been summoned to see the Queen. She was in her rooms, with two Unsullied on the door and two Dothraki by her table. Snow was also there, having breakfast with her. They left Tyrion and Jaime standing, not even offering a seat or a cup of wine. Tyrion helped himself to one anyway.

"We are ready to go whenever you are," Jaime said to Snow, the Queen's eyes on him the whole time.

"One thing first," the Queen said as Tyrion drank his wine. "I don't trust you."

"Well you shouldn't," Jaime replied. "But I am the only one Cersei will talk to. I am the only one who can get close to her."

"Your brother tells me she may kill you out of hand."

"Possibly, but I doubt it. We have too much…history…together. After all, we are twins."

"That is why I don't trust you," she continued. "There is a strong chance you will join her. Tyrion tells me all she will get is a one handed swordsman."

"And not a very good one at that," he replied. "Look, if you don't want me to go I won't. But maybe I can end this war."

"Yes, maybe," she said. "And maybe you won't even have to kill her. If she will see you, then give her this."

The Queen nodded to one of her Dothraki who reached to a writing table and retrieved a small scroll and handed it to the Queen.

"What's this?" Snow asked, caught unawares also.

"Her terms, to Cersei," Tyrion said as he took the scroll and handed it to Jaime.

"I thought the intention was for me to kill her," Jaime said, looking at the dragon sigil in wax on the scroll.

"Indeed," the Queen replied. "But in case you lose the stomach for it, I have an alternative plan."

"She won't listen," Jaime said, frustrated at these last minute changes. "She never listens."

"No, she won't," Tyrion agreed. "But this may get you an audience. And it may divide her men. Make sure they hear its terms, especially the Dornish. We know the sellswords will flee or drop arms at the first sight of a dragon. The Dornish, maybe not."

"What does it say?" Jaime asked.

"You will find out when she opens it," she said. "Make sure the rest hear its contents."

Snow was not happy. "Your Grace, this letter will only serve to give Ser Jaime a way out of what we want him to really do. If he has options, he may balk at doing it."

"No," Tyrion said quickly before Jaime could answer that. "It will serve to distract her and her allies, while also giving Jaime a way in, close to her. As for killing her, that was always up to him. This changes nothing as far as that goes."

"Perhaps," Snow agreed, somewhat reluctantly.

"I suppose part of your terms is to get her to rescind the assassination order?" Jaime asked Daenerys.

"No," she answered. "She would never do it. I leave it to you to convince her, somehow."

"Find her sigil ring," Tyrion suggested. "If they go against her, ask her to write the letter. If she refuses, then you write it, and stamp it with her ring. That should be sufficient for the Braavosi."

"Maybe," Jaime said.

The Queen was done with them. "Now go, all of you, before I change my mind about this foolish plan. And you two, don't do anything to endanger yourselves." The last was for Snow and Tyrion. "I still need you."

She had no such words for Jaime, for no one truly needed him. And now he was about to enter the lion's maw.

Yronwood had his hand out for the scroll. Jaime almost shook his head but then remembered what Tyrion had said. "You claim to be her advisor, so why not." He handed it over.

Yronwood opened it, read, his eyes glanced back at Jaime and then back to the letter. When done, he frowned. "Have you read it?" he asked.

"No, she had it already sealed when it was given to me. Not something bad I hope?"

"Your dragon queen is very clever indeed." He handed Jaime the scroll.

The words Jaime read did not really surprise him, but what Yronwood would do about it was yet to be seen. As Jaime read, one of Cersei's black clad Queensguards arrived.

"The Queen will see her brother," he said and he waited.

Jaime looked at Yronwood. "What will you do?"

Yronwood ignored the question. "Your sister awaits, ser."

Jaime returned the scroll to his pocket and followed the guard inside. The castle was big and inside it was filled with armed men and smallfolk, busying themselves with various tasks, preparing for the siege they expected. More than one set of eyes saw him and stared, as if they knew who he was. They headed for the great central keep and before Jaime went inside he saw Yronwood off a bit talking to some men. A few had the sigils of Dorne on their surcoats and the others did not, and Jaime guessed they might be the sellsword commanders.

As they walked up the central stairway, Jaime thought on the words Daenerys had written. Clever, indeed.

There was no salutation, no listing of her titles. Just simple words, effective, and to the point.

 _I write to you with hopes of finally settling the wars that have ravaged this land. We both know there is no room for two queens in Westeros. We also both know I have the right to the throne, based on my family heritage. You have no such right, merely being the wife of one king and the mother of two more._

Jaime knew this opening would sting Cersei, bring her to a quick boil. But it would also lay out the truth for those who had allied themselves with her.

 _We have defeated the undead army. The smallfolk call out my name, and Jon Snow's, our great hero of this war. They do not call out yours. Oh, you will be remembered, that is for certain. A woman who killed her husband, who murdered her uncle, and many more. Who has done such unspeakable crimes that she is hated throughout the land. Whose family turned against its own blood._

By that last Jaime surmised she meant Tyrion _._

 _Now only you can stop the bloodshed, do one good thing for this realm. You know what my dragons can do. You have seen them up close. The whole of Westeros is behind me except the Dornish and a few lords of the Stormlands. I have the North, the Riverlands, the Vale, and the Iron Islands. The Reach has shaken off your occupation and now is raising an army to march on Storm's End. We have your home at Casterly Rock. We have King's Landing. Soon you will be surrounded by land and sea. Your defeat is inevitable._

 _I will not seek vengeance on those who allied themselves with you. The Golden Company may sail whence they came. The Dornish may return to their homes, and shall retain any independence you may have offered them._

 _As for you, there is no possibility of any reconciliation. Your failure to ally with us against the undead after you made such a promise shows you to be untrustworthy. I will not offer you any pardons or even allow you to go into exile. I will not have sleepless nights worrying about your return. Death is all I can offer you. How you die is up to you. You can avoid the humiliation of a trial and public execution. I think you know how_.

And there it ended. "I think you know how," Jaime said aloud.

"Ser?" the knight who escorted him asked.

"Nothing. How long are these stairs?" His legs began to ache.

"We are here."

A double door of solid oak with brass handles was before him. Two of her Queensguards were outside it. One of them opened the door and Jaime and his escort entered.

It was a long room, a sitting and dining room, with bookshelves on one side, a door leading to a balcony on the other, a large table with six chairs in the middle of the room, and at the far end a large hearth, and two large stuffed chairs sitting facing the fire. In one of the chairs sat Cersei, dressed in black and silver, and in her hands was the usual cup of wine. On a nearby side table was a large crystal decanter filled with red wine. Two of her guards were standing nearby.

"Leave us," she said and they did so. Jaime stood at the far end, hesitating, for he knew this would be the most difficult conversation of his whole life.

She turned her head and looked at him. "Have you come all this way to say nothing?"

He found himself walking towards her and his hand going into his pocket, grasping the scroll…and then he stopped and pulled his hand out. First he needed to talk to her, to try to understand why she did what she had done to him.

He sat opposite her and spoke first. "You look well," he said.

"As do you."

The spark was still there, the one they had felt for each other since as long as he could remember…but it seemed weaker, dimmer, maybe even false.

"It wasn't easy….staying alive."

"No?" she said with raised eyebrows. "I thought you were the greatest swordsman in the land."

"Was the greatest. Now…not so much. Though no one tried to kill me except for some wights."

"You fought them?"

"Several times."

"And are the rumors true? Are they defeated?"

"Yes. Jon Snow killed their leader and the rest just…died."

"Good."

"No thanks to you," he added.

She stared at him intently. "I kept our army intact for the wars to come. Those fools weakened theirs."

"Those fools have all of Westeros behind them."

"Not all."

"Most. More than matters. Cersei…I came to make you an offer."

"From her?" she asked, sitting up straighter, her eyes more stern. "Have you become her errand boy? Are you fucking her?"

That took him aback. "Don't be foolish…I have never fucked anyone but you."

"So you say."

"Yes, I can. Can you?"

He saw that stung her. "Robert was my husband."

"And Lancel?"

"You know why I did that. Are we going to go through all this nonsense again?"

He took a deep breath and calmed himself. "No…it's too late," he said quietly.

She gave a short laugh and now he saw she was more than on her way to being drunk. "I thought you might have been fucking that other woman."

"What woman?" he asked but he knew who she meant.

"The big one, great big…Brienne of Tarth, that's her name. You know she loves you."

"I know. She told me…before she died."

"Oh, dear." He tried to control his feelings but she must have seen it in his eyes. "Gods, you cared for her, didn't you?"

"I did. But nothing happened." And maybe it should have, Jaime thought but did not say. At least he could have made someone happy.

They were quiet for a moment and then he remembered the other thing. "Your baby…"

"Our baby," she said quietly, sad now, a hand on her belly. "Our baby boy. I named him for our father, buried him at King's Landing. Murdered in the womb by Euron Greyjoy."

"I heard. Ser Gregor killed him?"

"Yes. If only Ser Gregor was here now. I never should have let them have him."

"He's dead."

The news stunned her. "How?"

"The Hound killed him. Three days ago, a village on the Kingsroad."

She sighed. "Their blood feud. So that ends that. Tell me, what does your dragon whore queen offer?" she asked.

"Peace…of a sort."

He took the letter out and gave it to her. She read it, snorted once, and then tossed it in the fire. "All lies." As it burned she asked, "Why was it opened?"

"I wanted to know what it said," he lied. Well, half a lie. She stared at him half a moment and then took a sip of wine.

"The woman is delusional," she said. "I have almost 40,000 men. More coming up from Dorne every day, with supplies. How many does she have?"

"Not that many…but now the Reach is…"

"Weak! Foolish men who care for nothing but jousting. They were defeated once, they can be again."

"She has two dragons."

"And they can die, can they not? Didn't she once have three?"

"Yes."

"There. Dragons can die. And so can she."

"They know you sent assassins after them."

Now it was her turn to be taken aback. "How?" she asked, her tone full of suspicion.

"The Stark girl, Arya, she trained with them in Braavos. They told her she had to do the job or all her family would be killed."

Cersei laughed, and it reminded him of younger days, when her laughter would make him smile.

"How deliciously played. Gods, his own sister."

"She's not his sister."

"What?"

"Jon Snow's real name is Targaryen, Aegon Targaryen."

And so he told her the story of all that, and at the end she did not care at all. "It matters not who he is or that he can control a dragon. He can die like his supposed father did. And his real father. Robert made sure of that."

"Yes, all men…people…can die."

"Well, has she done it? The Stark girl?"

"No…she told Snow and Daenerys the truth…and now they want you to end the contract. It's not in her terms but it is what they want. You to write to Braavos and cancel it."

"Madness. I will do no such thing. The girl will be killed along with them. Better she doesn't do the job. They will kill her, Sansa, the boy, all of them, and Snow and the whore. All my enemies dead at last."

"Perhaps. But Cersei…"

She quickly interrupted him. "Enough said. You will stay here. Once Snow and the whore are dead, and no one can control the dragons anymore, we will win. If they come we will crush them. When winter is over we will return to King's Landing…and you will take your proper place by my side."

For a brief moment he thought on it, and knew he could never do it…too much had happened. Now it was time to brooch the other thing. "I saw your letter to the Starks."

She looked at him, seemed embarrassed, looked away, stood and went to the side table and poured him some wine and then took the cup to him. He took it and sipped as she sat again.

"I'm sorry," she said at last. "But you had abandoned me. I was mad with grief. I sent Bronn to bring you back."

"He found me…and joined me in the North."

"Traitor."

"No, just a smart man. He knew sooner or later you would want his head."

"I should have taken it years ago when the monster killed our father." She sipped her wine and looked back at him. "Is Tyrion still alive?"

"Yes. He is still with her, as her Hand."

"Another traitor."

"No, just a man trying to survive. You and father made him what he is."

"He killed our mother!"

"And I forgave him for that! Years ago! Why couldn't you?"

"I loved her too much!"

"As did I. But Tyrion is not to blame. He didn't ask to be born the way he is. He didn't try to kill our mother."

"Maybe, but he killed our father. There is no doubt of that. So why is he still alive? You were with him, in Winterfell? Yes? So why does he still live?"

"Because he is my brother."

"Gods, they all have you twisted around their fingers. Him and her and Snow."

"You left me no choice, Cersei. You wrote that letter."

"I told you I was mad at you."

"You could have gotten me killed. They believed you. They wanted to kill me. Daenerys, too. For her father."

"Why didn't they do it?" she asked, her voice quiet now, her face filled with remorse.

"Because the boy said he couldn't remember. But that was a lie…he remembered everything."

"How do you know?"

"He told me, when we were alone. He actually thanked me. Said he never would have become a three…never mind. The point is he never told them, and so they dragged their feet. Snow and Daenerys said I was to have a trial. But then the fighting went on, and on, and I was given a chance to prove myself, given a sword and armor and put in the ranks. If I lived I was to take the black."

"I see. They made a deal with you."

"Yes." And he knew it was a mistake as soon as the word left his mouth. Her mind rushed to a judgment, and it was too late.

Her eyes went wide. "Why are you here?"

He tried to recover. "To make the peace offer. Look,…"

"That is no offering! Why are you here? Why not Tyrion, or Snow, or someone else?"

"Because they didn't think you would talk to anyone else."

"Or let anyone close to me…alone," she said, standing suddenly, knocking her cup of wine over.

"Cersei…listen to me!"

"GUARDS!" she screamed.

Four of them quickly came into the room. "Your Grace?" one asked.

"Seize my brother. Throw him in the cells!"

He had no weapon, only one hand, no chance to kill her, the chance had passed, and he could never fight them, and so they took him by the arms and he let them without a struggle. "This is madness, Cersei!" he shouted. "I love you!" But she had turned her back to him…again.

Down the stairs two of them dragged him, all the way to the deepest part of the castle's keep. A cell he was thrown into, the barred door was slammed shut and locked by a turnkey, and the sound of their footsteps walking away was the last thing he heard.

A little bit of light came in from a torch in the corridor. Jaime sat on a wooden bench, smelled something foul, and noticed a privy bucket in the corner. "Well, here I am, locked up again," he said aloud.

As he sat, he pondered why he said he loved her…did he? No, he concluded, he did not...but the feeling was still there, no matter how much he protested. He did not have the stomach for what he was sent here to do, so maybe he still loved her. Daenerys knew. She knew he would never kill her…not in cold blood, not while he might have a chance to join her or both of them escape. And so had Tyrion understood. No doubt it was he who told her what words to write…words to bring them allies…and leave Jaime no choice. He knew what would happen next, knew it as sure as anything in his life. And so he reached for the only thing that would save Cersei and himself from a horrid end.

The scroll sealed their fate. He should have read it, should have refused it, should have thrown it away…now it was too late. If Yronwood was going to act on that offer he would have to act soon. He did not know how long he waited, but surely it was after dark by the time they came for him. Yronwood, with two men he did not know, two men he had seen Yronwood talking to in the courtyard earlier. Yronwood had his sword on the turnkey as he opened the cell and then they let the frightened man run away.

"Sorry for the delay," Yronwood said.

"What's happening?"

"All in good time. First, this is Harry Strickland and Tristan Rivers, commanders of the Golden Company."

"Ser Jaime," the one Yronwood said was Rivers spoke. "One has heard of your reputation in the east."

"The good one or the bad one?" Jaime asked.

"Er…both, I am sorry to say."

"Enough talk," said the other, Strickland. "Where's the letter? From your queen?"

"Not my queen," Jaime said. "Cersei burnt it."

"This is not good," said Strickland in worry. "How do we know the offer is good?"

"Because I say it is," said Yronwood. "I have already sent a rider to Bronzegate with Dorne's pledge of allegiance to the Targaryen girl. Soon it will fly on raven wings to the capital. I have made my bed. We are leaving for Dorne at first light. You can stay here and become dragon food if you like. Or fight us now."

"Good enough for me," Rivers said, ignoring the threat. "We have been paid to fight only Snow and the dragon queen, not the Dornish."

"True," said Strickland. "Very well." He looked at Yronwood. "But your men must kill her guards."

"Already done," said Yronwood.

That surprised them. "And Cersei?" Jaime asked.

"Under guard in her sitting room. Mad as hell. Cursing us all."

"What about the Lannister men?" Jaime asked.

"It's up to you to talk to them before we have more bloodshed."

"Why the change of heart?" Jaime asked Yronwood as they walked upstairs.

"Ser Gregor is dead," he said. "Daenerys offers us the same terms. My people hate your family more than they do the Targaryens. One of ours married one of theirs once after all, so some Dornish blood flows in her as well. My men get to live and go home. What is not to like?"

"Peace," said Rivers. "Peace means no work for us."

"Haven't you already been paid?" Jaime asked.

"Yes," said Strickland.

"Done much fighting?" Jaime asked next.

"Not much," Rivers admitted.

"Then count yourselves lucky," Jaime replied. "I am sure someone in Essos will be at each other's throats before too long,"

"Better there than here," Yronwood said. "Westeros has seen enough bloodshed for now,"

Outside it was dark, the sun had set, and the Lannister leaders were already waiting for him in the courtyard. The whole castle seemed quiet, as if holding its breath. Men on the battlements and nearby were watching, waiting.

"Ser Jaime," one Lannister man said, an old veteran of his father's army, Jaime knew. "They tell us our Queen is under arrest. We are badly outnumbered. What do we do?"

"It is time to end the bloodshed," he told them. "It is time to go home."

"But…our pledge to the Queen," the man continued.

"My sister is no longer queen. Her reign is over," Jaime said.

They were surprised, looked at each other, and then back to him. "Your father…"

"Is dead," Jaime snapped at them. "The war is over. My brother Tyrion is head of House Lannister now. He is Hand to Queen Daenerys Targaryen, your true Queen, the only one who has a rightful claim to that iron chair. Now go to your men, and tell them to be ready to leave here on the morrow."

Again there was hesitation and then the old veteran sighed and nodded. "My lord," the veteran said. "We will do as you command."

"Good. Be happy. You are going home."

They dispersed to where their men awaited. "And now for the hard part," Jaime said.

She was where he had left her, now sitting at the table, quiet, in her sleeping clothes. Six Dornish men were here, surrounding her. Outside in the corridor there was blood, and the bodies of several Dornish and her four remaining Queensguard were still being carried away.

She looked up when he entered, and her eyes lit up, and then she saw Yronwood and the other two behind him.

"Traitors!" she yelled. "Jaime, kill them all!"

"There's been enough bloodshed for one night," Yronwood said. "Cersei Lannister, you are under arrest. You are stripped of your crown and all other titles."

"I trusted you," she snarled, her green eyes blazing in anger. "Those two, I could have expected this sort of thing." Her eyes fell on the two sellswords. "Scum, only working for money. But you…Anders…I thought we…I thought we were allies…friends. I gave you Ser Gregor, I…"

"He's dead," Yronwood told her. "Killed by his brother, not us.

"So I've heard. You had your chance. That was your own fault, for letting him go. We had a deal! I gave him to you."

Yronwood cared not for her protests. "I have had a better offer. One where I do not get me and my men killed and Dorne ravaged by dragon fire."

Now she glared at Jaime. "You showed him the letter?"

"I did," he confessed. "I did not know its contents at the time, but now I know it was the only way to end this."

"How could you?" she said, her voice full of hurt and accusations.

He had a retort on his lips but let it go, for none of it mattered anymore.

"Put her in a cell," Yronwood said. "She'll have to go to King's Landing."

"No," Cersei said, her voice a moan. "No…not again."

"Leave us," Jaime told them.

Yronwood and the others looked at him. "If you try anything…"

"What could I try? Where could I go?"

"He has no weapons," Rivers reminded Yronwood.

Yronwood thought and then nodded. "Let's go. Give him a chance to say goodbye."

Soon they were alone. He sat by her side. "Cersei…remember what the letter said? The ending?"

"Yes. But we must fight! Our men, they will…"

"I told them to go home…it's over…for us."

"For…us?"

He sighed. "Yes."

She was upset, trembling, full of fear. "I need a drink."

"So do I."

He went to the side table, poured them the wine in two cups, and took them to the table one by one with his good hand. She eagerly drank, gulping it down, almost the whole cup, and then he sat, paused, looked at her, and he drank as well, sipping the wine, and he felt a sudden burden lifted from him…and knew it had to be this way, for he knew deep down he did love her still, and it was the only way he could end it all for them both.

And then he showed her the glass vial, the one he had hidden in his inner clothing all this time, which he had taken out as he had sat in his cell and had put in his pocket.

She looked at it as he placed it on the table, wide-eyed. "What is it?" she asked in a bare whisper.

"A way out."

"No!"

"The same I gave to Olenna Tyrell."

"Gods…no!"

"Cersei…it's over. It will spare you the humiliation of a public trial and execution."

"I will not drink it!"

"You already have…and so have I."

For a long moment she stared at him, her green eyes wide in fright. She stare at the cup, dropped it like it was on fire, spilled what little was left, and then she stood, shocked, stumbled backwards, knocked over her chair, and then she gasped, tried to shove her fingers down her throat, but it was too late, already her body began to shake as she fell to the floor.

Jaime reached her, held her in his arms. "I could not let them humiliate you again," he gasped. "I could not let them shame you, hurt you anymore. It's over, my love…we will go together."

On the long ride to here he had thought of all that lay ahead for him, if he survived, and escaped…then what? A one-handed sellsword in the east, a long life of misery and perhaps a painful death, and knew it was not for him, alone in the world…and so if all else failed he would end it on his terms, his way…with her.

Varys had given him the vial. After their visit to the Queen, Varys was waiting outside the room.

Of course he knew where they were going. Jon went off to see to the dragon while Varys cornered Jaime and Tyrion.

"Your sister was humiliated once in this city," he said to them. "Someday she will lose. This will help her avoid any further public displays."

In his hand was the poison. Jaime stared at the small opaque vial, gulped once. "What…what does it do?"

"It will stop the heart at the end, but first it will make breathing difficult, and there might be some convulsions," Varys told him. "Similar to what you gave to my dear Olenna Tyrell, is it not?"

"It is," Jaime said.

"Olenna was a friend," Varys replied.

"Varys, leave it be," Tyrion said, knowing where this was going.

But Varys would not. "And you murdered her."

"Not the first time I have done that," Jaime answered.

"Not the first time, indeed. They all hate you, you know. Someday, someone will kill you, here or in another land."

"I need no spy master to tell me that."

"Surely not. Perhaps it is best if you save half of that for yourself." And then he turned and fluttered away on his soft slippers.

Tyrion was looking at him intently. "Jaime, he did not mean it."

"He certainly did. Maybe better for all of us if I do what he says. Better for you. She will not let me rest in peace, will she?"

"I know not," he admitted.

"She can't. You know that. I killed her father."

"Perhaps."

"She will never tell you," Jaime said. "Varys will do the job for her. Perhaps even now assassins are in the east waiting for me if I escape. In Pentos or…one of the other ones."

Tyrion looked to protest, and then simply sighed. "Come, we have far to go."

On the long ride south he had pondered the words and knew why Varys had said them. Slowly he came to agree with the idea. If Cersei had to die, then so did he. The letter sealed their fate. Once the Dornish acted, he knew he had to as well. It was time to end it all, the farce his life had become.

And now the love of his life lay dying from his hand. Cersei could not speak, just stare at him, the eyes he once loved so much now filled with hurt and pain and anger. Slowly she breathed her last…and then she was still, her eyes wide. As he closed them forever he gasped, cried, but knew he had little time, and there was one more thing to do.

He had sipped but a little of the poison, enough to do the job he knew, but he still had time, time to do one more thing for his little brother. "YRONWOOD!" he yelled and in moments he and the rest were there.

"Gods, what have you done?" Strickland asked as stood over Cersei's body.

"He's killed her," said Rivers. his eyes fell on the spilled cup. "Poison I venture."

Jaime was back at the table. "Killed her…and me as well. I've taken the poison, too. Time is short. Find her signet ring, her sigil."

They looked, but could not find it. "Her bedroom!" Yronwood yelled. As the other two left, Yronwood looked at Jaime. "What do we do?"

"A letter, to Braavos, the Faceless Men…they are going to kill your Queen and Jon Snow," he said, the words a struggle as he felt his throat grow tight. "Write a letter, cancel the contract. Sign it in her name. Get a woman to do it. Then…then stamp it with her ring."

"They will know it is false when they learn she is dead."

"No…send it right away, a fast ship, two letters, two ships." For you, Tyrion, he thought, as he began to drift into unconsciousness. For Westeros. For me…one last act of redemption. One last chance to be the hero in his own tale.

He fought against the blackness crowding his eyes. "Lay me next to her…we came together…we will go together."

"Why?" Yronwood asked as his men helped him to her side. "You didn't have to die."

"I died a long time ago," he gasped as he let his arms use their last strength to hug her tight. "The day I put on that damn white cloak. They…they tell you a knight is a virtuous man…it's all lies…lies."

He was shuddering now, his body in spasms, his lungs on fire, his throat burning as the air became harder to breath. But he had to say one more thing, for the one person he loved more than anyone in the world.

"Ty…Tyrion…tell him…sorry…I will see him…again…someday."

And then blackness crowded his eyes, he could see no more, felt no more, and Ser Jaime Lannister died at last.

* * *

 _Author's note: There will be one more chapter to wrap things up._


	17. Chapter 17

**Game of Thrones Season 8 Chapter 17**

 **King's Landing – Tyrion**

The letter arrived in the morning. After reading it, the Queen sent Bronn to his rooms to give him the news. Tyrion saw the raven scroll in Bronn's hands and knew what had happened from the look on Bronn's face. He felt the pinpricks of tears forming before he spoke.

"How?" he managed to ask before Bronn even said a word.

"Poison," Bronn said in a grim tone. "Both of them. Together."

Tyrion nodded and held out his small hand. Bronn gave him the letter. As Tyrion read Bronn came into the room, went straight to the table and poured two cups of wine.

The letter was from Lord Anders Yronwood of Dorne. Another one had arrived the night before, saying he had arrested Cersei, had taken over Storm's End, had the Golden Company on his side, and had pledged Dorne's loyalty to Daenerys.

When they read the news with Jon Snow and Varys in the Queen's quarters, she did not gloat, or smile, or jump for joy. She only sighed and slumped back down in her chair. "It is over, at last."

"Thank the gods," Jon had said. "Now we can have peace."

But Tyrion only had one thought. "What does it say about my brother, Your Grace?"

"Not a word," she told him. "If Cersei is under arrest I am sure he played some role in it."

"I suppose we must have a trial for her." Jon said.

"Maybe not," the Queen said, with a look to Varys, and by that look Tyrion knew what she had done, had told Varys to do.

Varys looked to him. "A trial would have only one outcome. I am sure we all agree we should spare the realm the onerous task. If Lord Anders is smart, he will take care of matters."

"Or Jaime already has," Tyrion had said, his voice hardly a whisper, for he knew not what had become of his brother.

And now Tyrion knew Jaime had done what they all wanted him to do…to both of them.

 _Your Grace, the traitor Cersei Lannister is dead, as is her brother Ser Jaime. He gave her poison unawares and for reasons of his own he also took it. Before he died he told us about the assassins. We wrote letters to Braavos and affixed her sigil to them. Two ships have set sail. My army is already returning home. The Golden Company is preparing to sail east, and the Lannister army is also returning home. They are taking the remains with them to place them in the crypts of Casterly Rock._

His face was wet and when Bronn passed him the wine he gulped it down. "Sorry," the sellsword said. "He was a good lad. For all that it is worth I think he was trying to regain some of the honor he had lost."

"Yes, he was, but they wouldn't let him."

They were silent for a moment and then Tyrion poured some more wine. "Bronn…as it appears it is no longer necessary to guard Jon Snow, I believe it is time we renewed our friendship."

"Never thought we ended it."

"No, of course not. I need you to keep me in this room today, no matter what I say or do. If I see her…or Varys…I might do something stupid."

"Her? The Queen?"

"Yes. She gave him no choice. He killed her father, monster that he was, so she had to do what she had to do. Still…if I see her when drunk I may do something foolish.'

"As you command."

And so they drank, and told stories, and wept for lost friends and family. When a knock came to the door, a messenger from the Queen asking Tyrion to see her, Bronn told him to fuck off and to make sure everyone else got the message.

The next morning he awoke, felt queasy and rushed to his privy pot to empty his stomach. After a while he felt better, wiped his face, stood and on unsteady legs found his table, where the mess of a late dinner still remained. Then he heard the snoring and saw Bronn laid out on a divan that was too short for his height.

There was ale and wine on the table and he drank some of the ale, for it would help steady him and settle his stomach. He gnawed on a piece of stale bread and then washed his face with cold water in a basin. The slashing of water must have awoken Bronn.

"All right?" he asked.

"Better," Tyrion said. "You?"

"Fit as a fiddle and ready for more." He was already pouring himself a cup of wine.

"No…we have things to do."

"Aye? And what would that be? The wars are over."

"We are going home. To Casterly Rock, to say goodbye to Jaime and…her."

"Sounds fine. What will you tell the other her?"

"That I need time to attend to affairs in the west. I am Lord of Casterly Rock after all."

"And Hand to the Queen. Can you be both?"

"Why not? My father was for twenty some years. It is time I took my proper seat."

"Good enough. I'll send someone to pack your bags. If we're going, let's go before any more snow falls."

His hand was already on the door handle. "Bronn…thank you…for everything."

"It's not thanks I want, but I will take them as well."

Tyrion had to grin. "You will be paid…as promised. I am sure I can find a nice place for you."

"The Queen promised me a mountain of gold and two castles."

"That might be difficult as she has neither. At least not the gold."

Bronn snorted. "Fuck it. Find me a small keep, some land, a big woman, some smallfolk to order about, and maybe a herd or two of sheep or cows."

"And gold, as much as I can spare. You've earned it."

"That I have." The door was opened and then Bronn paused again. "Pod should have been here too."

"Him and many more," Tyrion replied heavily, feeling the loss of Pod almost as keenly as his brother.

Bronn left and it wasn't long before someone else came knocking, Varys.

"I see you have decided to accept visitors," the spymaster said after Tyrion let him in. "The Queen is quite worried."

"I will see her in good time. Is there anything I can do for you, Lord Varys?"

"So, we are being formal?"

"Yes, we are."

"Very well. I have come to ask what blame you will give me and the Queen in your siblings' deaths."

"Cersei I care not for, as I am sure you well know," Tyrion said. "As for Jaime, I will not blame anyone. He decided to end it his way on his terms, and so be it. He made his bed years ago when he killed her father and pushed the Stark boy."

"So, that much is true."

"It is. But I cannot forget who gave him the poison. So, you and I shall not be friends."

"Oh, dear. And here I thought we were already friends," Varys replied.

"We were…but not anymore. I thank you for what you have done for me, my escape, my time in the east, the help you have given us all. But Jaime…you gave him an option he might not have taken if it was not available. So…there it is."

The spymaster took it in stride. "As you wish."

"Then there is nothing to discuss. You may tell the Queen I will see her shortly."

Varys nodded and left him. Soon after two serving girls came and began to pack his things. Tyrion washed some more, then changed his clothing and went to see the Queen. As he walked through the castle he noticed a buzz of excitement in the air. People were cheery, happy, laughing, and smiling. No bells had rung yet, maybe because there were so few left, but it seemed the news had spread…the wars were over.

He found her in her rooms, at breakfast, with her guards at her sides and Jon Snow at her table.

"Ah, the happy couple," Tyrion said as he sat opposite the Queen.

Jon blanched and the Queen gave Tyrion a steady look. "That is still a state secret, my lord."

"Well, I am sure it won't be for long. So when is the wedding?"

Jon almost choked on his food. "How much does he know?" he asked Daenerys.

"Everything," she said with a sigh.

"I see," Jon said.

"And if I know then Varys surely does," Tyrion said. "Soon others will as well. As Hand my advice will be to announce the nuptials as soon as possible."

"I quite agree," the Queen said. "Tomorrow. You can…"

"I won't be here…Your Grace."

That took her aback. "Oh. Where will you be going?"

"Home…to bury my siblings and settle my affairs."

"Of course," she said. "But you will return?"

"Yes. When, I do not know."

"Then we will postpone the wedding."

Jon spoke up. "I don't think that would be a good idea. Already…ah, I mean, you are….um…"

"Showing," Tyrion said to save him from his awkwardness. "When that news gets out, then the wedding must swiftly follow. Better if it happened first."

"Yes," she said. "But I wanted you here."

"It cannot be helped."

"Can't you postpone for a day or two?" Jon asked him.

"The Lannister army is already heading west. I must go."

The Queen looked at him, sighed and nodded. "Very well. But first arrange for the news to be sent out to all corners of the realm."

"What shall I say?" Tyrion asked.

"The wars are done, your sister is dead, and I shall wed," the Queen told him.

He stood, dipped his head. "As you command, Your Grace."

As he reached the door she stopped him. "I am sorry for your brother."

He turned, looked at her, had many sharp replies on his tongue, but said nothing, merely dipped his head and left them. You wanted him dead, he thought, and never had any intention of letting him live elsewhere. And then and there Tyrion Lannister decided to resign as Hand to the Queen, as soon as all was settled, at home and in the realm.

The letters were written with the help of some maesters, and sent out by riders and by ravens, those few that were left after all the battles. He was sure the news would get out, as it always did, somehow, some way.

Sam Tarly was one who helped him. "So, what plans for the future?" Tyrion asked him when the last raven was sent aloft. "A return to the Night's Watch?"

"In time, if it is ever reborn. But first Winterfell," Sam said. "I've had a letter from Sansa Stark. She asked me to be maester for her family."

"Yet you are not yet a maester, are you?"

"No. But the Citadel agrees I have done enough to continue training on my own. In the future I will go there to be examined for my chain."

"Once you become a full maester you cannot be a companion to Gilly, can you?"

Sam smiled a bit. "Well, maybe in the far future I will sit for my exams."

Tyrion liked that answer. "Good. But I would have thought the Queen would offer you a post here when you finish."

"She has."

"And you refused, haven't you?'

He nodded, and a sadness came over him. "I cannot serve her anymore. Not after what she did."

"I understand completely. Then I wish you luck, Sam Tarly, and may we meet someday in the future when the realm is better for all."

He and Bronn and an escort of twenty men with five mule drawn supply wagons left the city by the noon hour. As they exited by the main western gate Tyrion did not even turn about to see the city he had once cherished and now doubted if he ever wanted to see it again.

Ten cold and snowy days it took them to reach Casterly Rock, arriving the day after his brother and sister had returned home to their final resting place. He did not even bother to see Cersei but he did see Jaime, and later regretted it. The Silent Sisters were already preparing him for his final resting place. He was cold, lifeless, his eyes already sewn shut and now with painted stones on them. He was dressed in his finest armor and his sword was on his body with his real hand and the golden one gripping it.

"Good-bye," he said, and then he left before he broke down. They were buried in the crypts the next day. Tyrion ordered that no mention of Cersei being Queen be inscribed on her tomb. All it said was 'Cersei, daughter of Tywin and Joanna, wife of King Robert Baratheon, mother of Kings Joffrey and Tommen Baratheon.'

Jaime's tomb said a bit less. 'Jaime, son of Tywin and Joanna, knight, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, beloved brother.'

Months went by and the winter deepened. He kept busy establishing control over the west, pulling those who had once been enemies of the Queen into his orbit of power. He found a small but nice keep for Bronn, its owner dead in the wars, and gave him all he had promised. Bronn married the daughter of a dead knight, whose family was happy to make the match when they found he was a close companion of Tyrion's.

The Queen and Jon Snow married as well, and the realm rejoiced, for peace had come, and the throne was stable once more. She wrote often, asking when he would return, that she needed him, with so many problems yet to be solved, but he begged off, the snows keeping the mountain passes blocked between his home and the capital. Finally, one day Jon Snow appeared on Rhaegal.

"You know why I am here," he said.

"I suppose I have no excuses now."

"Tyrion…she thinks you blame her for Jaime."

"I do."

He looked troubled. "He killed her father."

"Yes, that is what they will always say of him, even in death. Ser Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer. Killed a monster, someone who needed killing, same as my sister. No one will ever say how he ended the wars, two of them. Only that he betrayed his King and murdered his sister. Already they whisper of it. Kinslayer they will add to his name. Well, I know what he did. I suppose that will have to do. Let us go. I must look into her eyes when I resign."

That shook him. "Resign?"

"Yes. I am done with it all. Let's go."

The capital looked better than before, the walls mostly repaired, and the Red Keep returning to its former shape, if not yet its glory.

They found her with her small council. It was a strange group, mostly of men who had done things that should have precluded them from serving on such a grand council. Ser Jorah Mormont, as master of laws, a man who had once committed crimes that forced him to flee from Ned Stark's blade. Ser Davos Seaworth, master of ships, once a smuggler bar none. The two Greyjoy siblings were his main naval commanders, a pair who were more akin to pirates than past commanders of the royal fleet.

Then there was Lord Edmure Tully, master of coin, a man in his youth who had frivolously spent his father's money and who later betrayed his own uncle. And Varys, of course, master of whisperers, who had done everything he could to murder his Queen when she was just a girl. That was a bit unfair, for he had also done everything he could to save her. There was as yet no Grand Maester. Sam Tarly had served as a temporary one, but Tyrion knew he would never again serve the woman who had killed his father and brother. And there was also no Lord Commander of the Queensguard, as there wasn't as yet any Queensguard. She still relied on her Dothraki and Unsullied survivors, men who would die for her and did not care for politics or family connections. And of course she had Jon Snow and his sword, and Tyrion knew he hardly left her side, except to fetch reluctant servants like himself to come when she called.

Her eyes lit up when she saw him walk into the room with Jon by his side. Or maybe the look was for Jon. "Leave us," she commanded, and the rest stood, dipped their heads and soon left, all except Jon and two guards. They sat, him opposite her and Jon by her side. Her belly was swelling and soon she would provide an heir for the throne.

"You are well, I trust?" she asked him.

"Well as can be, Your Grace."

"I need you here, my lord. You have grieved enough."

"I don't suppose I shall ever grieve enough."

"We have all lost ones we love," Jon said. "But it is time to move on."

Tyrion had nothing to say to that. It was true, but he didn't want to move on.

"I know you blame me," she said.

"To assign blame for all that happened would be an exercise in futility. Yet you never had any intention of letting him go, did you?"

"Once you said I could not let him live and rule these lands."

"I did. I regret it now. You are the Queen, he killed your father, and you did what you had to do. Now I must as well. I find I am reluctant to resume my post."

That did not surprise her. "I see. Well, I would not want anyone to serve who was reluctant. I only ask you give me time to find a successor and for you to teach him all you know."

"In that case, I would recommend Ser Davos."

She had a protest on her lips and in her eyes but Jon spoke first. He and Tyrion had already planned all this on the ride here.

"Agreed," Jon said. "He is the only one with experience, first with Stannis, then with myself."

Daenerys looked from one to the other. "Well, I see that has already been decided. I shall speak to him on the morrow."

"And I will stay until things are better," Tyrion promised and she was glad for that much.

Tyrion stayed a moon's turn, and when he knew Davos was no fool, and the realm was righting itself, he decided it was time to go. Daenerys made him promise he would return if she ever needed him and he reluctantly agreed. Before he made his goodbyes he saw Varys one last time. They met in Tyrion's rooms and after a glass of fine wine, Tyrion broached the subject.

"I need your help."

"How may I be of service, my lord?"

He thought Varys would be indifferent to him, after all that had happened, but the spymaster seemed uncaring about the harsh words Tyrion had once said to him.

"I need to find someone."

"Who?"

"A girl."

"The realm has many."

"This girl was once my wife."

"Ah, Tysha."

"Gods."

"Why are you surprised, my lord? I am what I am, and knowledge is my leverage in this world. Tysha, a girl of the west, an orphaned daughter of a wheelwright, whom you and your brother came upon on a road where she was being attacked. You saved her, and later you wed. Sadly, it turned out she was not a woman of virtue, but one your brother paid so you could have your first taste of the female form."

"How do you know all these details?" Tyrion asked with a hint of anger for he already knew who had told him, for Tyrion had only ever told the story to two people.

"You told Bronn and Shae one night when drunk. Shae told me."

"I see. Did she tell you it all?"

"Oh, I already knew the rest, years ago, when it happened. That part of the story was repeated in high circles. Your father had the marriage annulled, and let a barracks full of soldiers rape her before your eyes."

The memory was painful enough without being put into words and his face must have showed it. "I'm sorry," Varys said. "Your father was not well loved, and always people supplied me with gossip about his failures. After he left Aerys' service the Mad King was always eager for such tales."

"And of course I was the biggest failure."

"Not of late."

"Thank you. As for Tysha, do you know anything about her?"

"No. But I can find out."

"Please."

"I do not think this is wise, my lord."

"Because?"

"You let your father's men rape her while you watched. Despite her profession, I sense there was some hint of love in your relationship."

"There was, from me."

"And perhaps her as well?"

"Perhaps," Tyrion admitted, though it was so long ago and their time together so brief he could never be sure of what was true and what were lies.

"Even so, do you think if she still lives she will be grateful to see you?"

"No, I suppose not. But I must try. She was the only person who I ever truly loved." Shae came to mind as well but after all that had happened with her he could not bring himself to believe he had loved her.

"Then I shall try as well," Varys said.

Varys stood and went to the door. Before he got there Tyrion had one more memory of that night he told the story. "You know, Bronn said he would have killed the man who had let all those soldiers rape a woman I loved."

"Was that what made you fire the crossbow that night? The memory of her?"

"That and so much more."

Two months later a visitor came to Casterly Rock, a young man of about twenty years of age. He was dark of hair and had green eyes, average height and strong looking. He appeared at the gates and demanded to see Tyrion and was rebuffed. Finally he made such a fuss the captain of the guards sent word to his lord.

"Yes, yes, what is it?" Tyrion said after he appeared at the gates. A cold winter wind was blowing off the western sea, making the nearby banners and flags flutter nosily.

The man stared at him intently. "You are Tyrion Lannister?"

"Lord Tyrion Lannister," snapped the captain of the guard, who looked ready to throw him in a dungeon.

Tyrion gave the captain a look and a shake of his head and turned back to the young man. "Yes, I am Tyrion Lannister. I am sure you have heard I am some monster with horns and a tail. I assure you apart from my short stature I am every bit of man as you are. May I have you name and your purpose here?"

"My name is Cyrus…my lord. I have a letter from a man who called himself Lord Varys. He said to give it to you."

"Really? What does it say?"

The young man looked embarrassed. "I did not open it. And…and I can't read," he admitted.

"Oh. Well, let us go inside where it is warmer and get to the bottom of all this."

The captain checked the man for weapons, and he had none. Even so two guards escorted them to a nearby room where there was a small table and several chairs. After they sat Tyrion dismissed the guards and Cyrus produced the letter. Before he opened Tyrion wanted to know what had happened.

"How did you meet Lord Varys?" he asked.

"He came to my village."

"Where do you live?"

"Not far from here, my lord. On the road to the east."

"Do you know why Varys was in your village?"

"People said he was asking many questions."

"About?"

"My mother."

Tyrion felt a small shock go through him and he quickly opened the letter, read, and felt his world turn upside down.

 _Greetings, my lord. The quest you gave me before you left King's Landing has borne fruit. Sadly not all the news is good. I found the village where Tysha was from. And it seems that your father and brother told you a monstrous lie all those years ago. She was what she claimed to be, a wheelwright's daughter, not a whore._

As he read these terrible words he felt tears forming in his eyes.

 _She was thrown out of Casterly Rock, made her way home and nine months later had a child, a son, who now delivers this news to you._

Now his face was wet and he felt the young man's eyes on him but Cyrus said nothing.

 _Though you will never be certain, the chance of him being your son is great, for you spent two weeks with her before the barracks room event. It is highly possibly she was with child before that sad tale. And now I have an even sadder tale to tell. Tysha died some five years ago, of consumption of the lungs. I am sorry to be the one to tell you all this, but you did ask. Yours faithfully, Varys._

Tyrion looked up and then wiped his eyes. "My lord?" Cyrus asked. "What is it?"

"Your mother…tell me about her? What was her name?"

"Tysha. She died five years ago."

"Yes, so the letter says. And your father?"

"I never knew my father. I'm a bastard. Cyrus Hill they call me."

"What did you mother ever tell you about your father?"

"Nothing. She would not talk of him. But she always looked sad when I asked."

Tyrion nodded and felt his heart clench, for all that he had lost. And Jaime, my brother, why did you never tell me? And in the same moment he knew why. Because Tyrion could never have forgiven him if the truth were known. Why the lie, well, that was obvious. Tyrion had married beneath his station, a common girl, married without consent, someone who could not advance his father's house, someone who would be the cause of scorn and laughter throughout the realm. So they called her a whore…and I believed them. Her silenced in the barracks made him believe it. But he also recalled her hurt, accusing eyes. Why had she kept silent? Maybe they told her worse would come if she did not do as she was told….maybe she thought he was in on it, a cruel joke the rich and mighty played on those beneath them in life.

"My lord? What is it all about?" Cyrus asked.

Tyrion forced himself to smile, stood and looked at the man. He had Tysha's black hair and Tyrion's green Lannister eyes. Yes, just maybe he is mine. Well, time would tell. "Come, young Cyrus. You and I have much to discuss. I find I talk better when I drink wine. Do you enjoy the grape?"

"I have had few chances to try it, my lord."

"That will have to change. If you are to stay here."

"Stay here? I can't. My lord."

"And why not?"

"My wife and children await me."

Gods. "Wife and…how many children?"

"Two. A boy and a girl."

"Well, we shall have to send word for them to come here as well."

"Please, my lord, what's it all about?"

"First, the wine. And then we shall have a very long talk."

* * *

 **Winterfell - Sansa**

All the news came to the North eventually, and the people rejoiced when they learned the wars were over. Sansa read the raven message from Jon and felt tears come when she heard Cersei was dead at last. Never again would she fear falling into the hands of the one person in the world she could call her true enemy. Maybe now the bad memories of her time in the south would be banished. And then it all came back, in a flood of images, and she fell into her bed and wept for her father and mother and brothers and all the rest who would never been seen again.

Sometime later Meera Reed came to her room. The guards let her in when Sansa had failed to answer their knocking. "My lady, the people are waiting for you," Meera said as she neared the bed.

"What?" Sansa asked from the dark shadows of her bed, wiping her eyes. The sun had set and the room was very dark.

"The celebration, Lady Stark. They are preparing for…"

"No," Sansa said quickly as she stood. "There will be no rejoicing."

"I am afraid it is too late."

Too late it was, and through the night a riotous party took place, with much ale and wine consumed. Sansa wanted to stop it but her brother Bran said to let them wash away the bad memories of the wars. As for her, she felt she never could. And she had other fears, and worries, for Jon's letter said Arya and Sandor were hurt in battle with the Mountain, who was dead at last.

Despite calls for her to come and join them she sat in her room with just Bran. Now that Jaime Lannister was dead finally Bran admitted what they knew all along.

"Yes, he pushed me. I remembered."

"Why did you never tell us?" Sansa asked, not angry, just weary of it all.

"Because if not for him I would not be what I am. Jon would not have been able to defeat the Night King. And if I had told you, then you would have arrested and killed him. Then the wars would have continued for no one else could have gotten close enough to Cersei to kill her."

"You knew he would kill Cersei?"

"No. But he was the only one she would trust. If he was somehow turned to be angry with her, he might. When he came to the North and I heard of his split with her, then I decided not to speak on what had happened. As for Cersei, I looked into her life. I saw it all…all Cersei's life."

"All?"

"Yes…I saw her and you, how she tried to become your mother…replacing ours. How she kept you in fear, how…"

"Enough."

"I'm sorry," Bran said.

"Why did you look so deeply into her life?"

"To find a weakness."

"You only needed to ask me. She always had only one weakness…Ser Jaime."

"Yes. And that is why I let him live."

The next day many slept late. Sansa found the cooks still half-drunk as they prepared breakfast. She sat with Bran and Gilly and her son and the Reeds. The topic of the day was the upcoming wedding of Jon and the Queen.

"Will that mean he is the King?" Gilly asked as she wiped some porridge from her son's mouth.

"I think not," Lord Reed said. "Our laws and traditions are strange where this matters for we never had a queen who ruled in her own right before. Not counting Cersei of course, for she was never legally crowned as queen. A woman may take her husband's name and become a lady or a queen, but men never take their wife's name or titles. So Jon Snow will remain as he is named, and will not be called king. There is also the issue of him not having royal blood and being born…well…sorry, but a bastard."

Bran and Sansa looked at each other but said nothing about Jon's secret. That was his to tell the realm, if ever.

"So when will you leave for the capital?" Meera asked Sansa. "For the wedding I mean?"

"Never," Sansa said. "I will not go south again, ever." They looked at her and all understood. "Besides," she added. "There is no time. Jon said they would wed in a matter of days."

And so they did wed, and news arrived of that event, and also a letter from Arya, from King's Landing, where she and Gendry and Sandor were staying for the moment until the weather allowed them to travel North. Arya and Sandor were mending well, thank the gods. Ever greater news was that the Queen had named Gendry heir to Storm's End. She gave him a writ of legitimacy, named him Gendry Baratheon, and gave him title to his father's ancient home.

Gendry was not the only one such rewarded. Many favors the Queen gave over the coming months, and many new lords and ladies began to rule the land. Winter was still on the land, and the struggle for life continued, but with no enemies and no wars, for once people began to hope again, and believe there was a future for Westeros.

Later a new letter came from Arya, telling them that she and Gendry would not be coming to Winterfell, but would move to Storm's End and take up their proper seat. She was now titled Lady Arya Baratheon and he was Lord Baratheon. Sansa and Bran were not happy they would not see their sister again soon, but understood what she was doing, and it was better they took over right away and begin to control the fortress and the region in the name of the Queen.

In her letter Arya also said Sandor and Sam were coming North, and would be here as soon as possible, sailing first to White Harbor with Lord Manderly, and then coming overland, weather permitting.

She waited all through the cold days ahead, often going to the battlements to look out for their coming, but soon was not soon enough for her. One day Meera joined her.

"They will come," she said.

"Yes. But when?"

"Soon. He will come back to you."

Sansa felt herself flush. "What? Who?"

"My lady…"

"Sansa."

"Sansa…we know, everyone knows."

Gods. "Everyone?"

"Yes."

"What do they say about him?"

"Much. Some don't like him, for he once rode with the Lannisters, and has a vile reputation for drunkenness and blasphemy."

She sighed. "All true. And?"

"Some know he is brave and has done much to help us, so they seem willing to forgive him."

"But not all?"

"No. Sorry."

Sansa knew her people questioned her taking Sandor Clegane as a swordsman in her service, but she did it anyway, and cared not, for she had forgiven his faults, as she had forgiven Theon's. The people were unhappy in both cases, but Sandor was not the same as Theon, who had attacked Winterfell, and he was strong and brave and helped them defend their home, so he was accepted. How they would react if he became her husband, which may in fact make him Lord of Winterfell in the eyes of the realm, she could not imagine. As she waited on the battlements with Meera and thought on all of this a plan began to form and soon after she went to see her brother.

Four days later they arrive, coming through the east gate along a path lined with high snow piles, the path only recently been cleared by the people after a heavy snowfall. With Sandor and Sam were Lady Mormont and her men and many more men of Winterfell and the North, and there was much cheer and tears as the people greeted their returning folk.

As Gilly and Sam reunited, Sandor got down from a tall horse and stood before her and her brother Bran, with Lord Glover, the Reeds, and many more nearby.

"Sandor," she said, feeling the word catch in her throat.

"My lady," he said with dip of his head. "I have returned to offer my sword once more."

"It is not me you need offer it to," she replied. She looked at Bran. "My brother has assumed the position as Lord of Winterfell. As is proper."

He looked from her to Bran and back to her. "Aye?" Then he turned to Bran. "My lord, my sword is yours."

"I accept, Sandor Clegane," Bran said. "But know this. I will not tolerate drunkenness and violence."

"I see my reputation is well known, my lord."

"It is. As is your bravery," Bran replied. "Do you agree?'

"Aye, my lord. I am done with drink. As for violence, a man can't be a man if he does not fight back at those who wrong him and his."

"Agreed," Bran said. "Then I name you as personal guard for my sister Sansa, who is my heir."

He dipped his head to Bran and then Sansa. "Come inside, everyone," she said. "Let us get warm and have some food."

A dinner party was put on and all the stories came out. Sam told them of doings in the capital, of the wedding and the Queen's being with child, which the whole realm knew about and rejoiced at the news. Sandor told the story of how the Mountain died and what Jaime Lannister had done as well. As for Sam being maester of Winterfell, Sansa agreed to make it temporary until a decision was made about the future of the Night's Watch. Many were saying with the wights and Night King gone it was not needed anymore. Others were saying the wildlings were still there and were still a danger. Sam told them Jon would come north soon to settle all matters.

Late at night the party finally ended and many went to bed. Sansa finally found herself alone with Sandor at the table as servants cleaned up nearby.

"Have you found peace?" she asked quietly and he knew what she meant.

"I thought I would. Now all I have are bitter memories."

"That can change."

He looked at her. "How?"

She took a deep breath and said what she needed to say. "My brother is waiting for you in his room." Then she reached out and took his strong rough right hand in hers. "Ask him what you want, what you truly want, and he will say yes. And so will I."

Sandor stared at her, and she saw his eyes turn moist. She smiled once, squeezed his hand, stood, and left him.

Five days later they married in the godswood, and for the first time in a long time Sansa felt safe and loved and happy and felt that now the future would be good, and hoped the man she loved would have no more bad memories.

* * *

 **King's Landing – Jon**

Jon Snow had never been happier in his life. He was married to a wonderful woman, he had a child on the way, his two sisters were married, and his brother Bran was Lord of Winterfell at last and seemed content. Most of all his enemies were dead and gone, and there was peace in the land. Yet a nagging feeling of something unfinished gnawed at him, and it wasn't until after the wedding that he knew what it was.

"I must return North," he told Daenerys one morning as they lay in bed.

She sighed. "I knew this day would come."

"I'm sorry. But there are things I must do, my love."

"The Night's Watch?" she guessed and spoke on before he could. "It is no longer needed and you are not a member anymore. You are my husband and will be a father soon."

"It is because I am a husband and will be a father that I must settle these matters."

"The Night King is dead. You killed him."

"He is not dead, just in limbo. I told you what Lord Stark and Azor Ahai told me when I was dead."

"Yes. But maybe it was all just a dream."

"I think not. The Night King cannot die. He is waiting, his soul at least, for the time to come back in a mortal form. I must go to the North to prepare them once more."

"I understand. But at least wait until our child is born."

So he waited, and a few months later a daughter was born to them, a difficult birth, but mother and child survived. Their baby was dark of hair like Jon but had the purple lilac eyes of a Targaryen. They named her Lyanna for Jon's mother, but she took her mother's family name for she had royal blood and would be heir to the throne and hopefully someday a dragon rider as well. As for Jon's true heritage they decided to tell no one, for the realm might wonder who the true heir to the throne was. In the past that had often led to war.

The news of Lyanna's birth spread far and wide and many words of congratulations and praise came to them by raven and rider. By now all had bent the knee, in person or by letter, had promised to send representatives to court, and much work was being done to heal all the old wounds. A stable leadership did much to make this so.

But not all was so well. Tyrion was a reluctant part of her council, and soon parted and Davos took his seat. Sometime later Varys told them Tyrion had a surprise of his own, a small family he never knew he had, born of a woman who was his first wife so long ago. When Jon heard the story he knew why Tyrion had fired those crossbow bolts into his father. Daenerys missed the little man with the large appetites and sharp wit, but there was nothing she could say or do to bring him back to court.

"He blames me for his brother," she said, a sadness in her voice. "I fear the rife will never heal."

"Maybe in time it will," he said, but he knew it might never be so.

Two months after their daughter was born, Jon felt it was time to go to the North. "They are waiting for me," he said and she kissed him goodbye and let him go.

Two days as the dragon flies it took him to reach Winterfell. There was much rejoicing and warmth in his reception, and he spent a week with his family and friends. Ghost was the happiest of all for it been nearly half a year since Jon had seen him.

Sandor Clegane was Sansa's husband now, and though Jon found that strange, when he saw them together he knew it was right. Bran named Clegane master of arms and captain of the guard and when Jon saw him training the young boys in the yard he knew it was the right choice. He seemed calmer, not so full of hate, and to his surprise he heard he never cursed or drank anymore except for weak ale with his meals. Sansa had much to do with that he was sure.

Much time he spent with Sam, discussing what needed to be done. Representatives of the free folk he also met and plans were made. He wrote a long letter to Daenerys, telling her what he wanted done. A week and a half later her reply came through by raven, agreeing to all he suggested. When the weather was better she would send a royal writ for the terms discussed.

It was decided that the Nights' Watch would be disbanded. In its stead the free folk would man the Wall against the future possibility of wight attacks. They would be allowed to settle south of the Wall, and by royal degree they would be granted the fifty miles of land between the Wall and the North that was known as the Gift. It had been given to the Night's Watch by the Targaryens in the past, and now a Targaryen would give it to someone else. In return they would provide people and arms to man the Wall and its many castles. Jon planned to reopen them all in time, and to have the free folk become part of the realm. The free folk leaders only had two demands. First, they would pay no taxes and bend no knees. Second, they would not be called upon to fight the Queen's wars if ever there were any. They would have one duty only, to build and man the Wall, and prepare for the future. Jon told Daenerys they could not strike a better deal and so she agreed.

But for now the weather was the problem, with winter deep on the land. No one was going to get to the Wall by land, with deep snows covering the Kingsroad north of Winterfell. Eastwatch was the main issue for that's where the Wall fell and would need to be repaired. They could reach it by sea from White Harbor, but storms in the far north were notoriously bad, so Jon decided they would wait for spring. He was sure the Night King's long nap would not be over so soon.

Meanwhile he and Sam would fly north on Rhaegal to inspect Castle Black and see what was left of it and the Wall.

They left on a cold morning but at least the sky was clear and the sun was shining. Gilly admonished Sam to keep warm and gave him some warm wine in a clay jug for the trip. After farewells were made and last warnings to be careful they took off on Rhaegal and headed north.

It was almost dark by the time they reached Castle Black, both of them cold despite sitting on a dragon's back. Jon steered Rhaegal to land in the main courtyard and no sooner were they off his back then he took off and went high, landing on top of the Wall.

They stood in the courtyard and saw that most of the castle remained intact, though it was cold and lifeless. For both many memories came back.

"This is where we first met," Sam said.

"Aye. You looking clumsy in training armor and with a tourney sword you didn't know how to hold."

"I think I still have some of the bruises from that day."

They laughed a bit at that, but Jon had other thoughts. "Memories are what I will always have, of this place and the brothers I knew…and of those who betrayed me."

"I should have been here."

"You would have been killed too, Sam. And I could never forgive myself if that had happened."

Sam sighed. "They are all gone. The Old Bear, Edd, Pyp, Grenn…so many more."

"Let us hope the dying is done. Come, it is time we climbed the Wall once more and stood our post one last time. By winch cage. I think Rhaegal is enjoying himself too much up there."

The cage still worked, though its metal screamed in protest at first, then settled down into the old familiar rhythm. After a time they were high up and the rays of the setting sun to the west were licking the tree tops below.

Rhaegal was there when they arrived, sitting in a pool of melting snow and ice. He seemed to purr when he saw Jon and he took two steps towards them. Jon touched his snout and then looked north.

The vast wilderness was still there. How many were still out there he did not know, but their people would soon come back and send messages far and wide telling them to come south. Some would not, he knew, and they would spend their days as they always did, hunting, fishing, warring. Jon worried about the last, but there was nothing he could do about it. Always they would have their petty fights, for they were human, and it was in their nature.

As for the rest of the realm he hoped it never came again, war in all its horror. The Queen was strong and so was he, but they were just two people. Allies they needed, alliances with powerful houses they must have, and Jon was not one for such ways, of politics and backroom deals. He knew who was.

"We need Tyrion," he said at last.

"He won't come back. I know you love her, but she did things…terrible things."

"Sam, can you ever forgive her?"

"Sorry…no. They were my kin. Horrible as he was, he was still my father. And my brother never hurt anyone."

Jon said nothing to that for he knew it would do no good. "How can I get Tyrion to come back?" he asked to change the subject.

"I am thinking of a project for him," Sam said.

"What project?" Jon asked in surprise.

"Do you know why the wildlings were kept on the far side of the wall for eight thousand years?"

"Aye. People said they were savages and needed to be kept out of the realm."

"But we both know that is not true. The real truth is that people forgot. They forgot why the Wall was built, and they forgot because no one told them. We must change that this time."

"How?"

"Words," Sam replied. "Words for the people. A history of the wars and the Night King. Tyrion can write it. I am sure such a project would be to his liking."

Jon smiled. "Aye, it would." Jon knew it might even bring him back to the capital for research. Once there he might be persuaded to stay a while.

"This time we won't forget," Sam continued. "Even if they come back in eight thousand years, the realm will be ready."

"But how do we get the people to read about it when most can't even spell their names?"

"That will be up to you and her. Change must come, Jon. I heard Tyrion say the Queen wants to break the wheel, the wheel that keeps high folk and small folk where they are. The first step to that is teaching. The gift of education is what the people need. In time the whole realm will benefit."

"There will be resistance."

"There will. So you must stand by her side, and see that it is done right. Start small and then you will see what happens."

"You have thought on this a lot, haven't you?"

"I have. At the Citadel I saw how even the most brilliant minds in the realm are so ignorant and stupid in so many ways."

"Then it will be done. If so, I need more than Tyrion. I need you, to lead it."

He thought Sam would stutter and refuse and say no, that he wasn't good enough, but this was not the same Sam he had met on the training ground so long ago.

"Aye," he said. "I have only one price."

"Gilly?"

"Yes. You must make the Queen make a degree. All maesters may marry if they wish."

"I'll do my best. But they will resist this as well."

"They will. But it is a beginning. We will have to take much away from the maesters to teach the realm. Tell her she must start with them if she wants to break the wheel."

"Aye. We must break the wheel."

They watched the sun set and as the last rays fled the day Rhaegal gave a great roar, his voice echoing across the realm that was at peace once more. Jon Snow hoped it would stay that way for all the days to come, both for now and in the very far future.

* * *

 _Thanks to all of you who read my story to the end. Things may turn out like this on the show, but most likely not. We'll have to wait and see next year. I hope you enjoyed it and thank you especially to those who left comments._


End file.
